


just a flicker in the dark

by falsegoodnight



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (mild), Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Bottom Louis, Demons, Dom/sub Undertones, Enemies to Lovers, Exes to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Familiars, Ghost Hunters, M/M, Magic, Medium Harry, Mystery, Not Meant to be Scary, Paranormal Investigators, Plot focused, Protective Harry, Sir Kink, Top Harry, Witch Louis, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:13:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 57,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27248593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsegoodnight/pseuds/falsegoodnight
Summary: Harry Stylesis his case partner. High and mighty, annoyingly smug Harry Styles who’s known him for years and has fuckingseen him naked for fuck’s sake.He glances at Venus who’s blinking up at him with curious eyes, no doubt sensing the agitation sparking in his magic.“This is not happening,” Louis says loudly. “This is not fucking happening. I am going tokillLiam, oh my god.” He doesn’t even know if Liam is responsible for this but it feels like something he’d do to drive Louis absolutely insane - exes don’t just show up to your assigned haunted house out of nowhere. “Fucking fuck!”He nearly jumps when Harry knocks again, his muffled voice carrying through the wood. “I can hear you, you know,” he drawls, sounding frustratingly amused.Louis exhales, resisting the urge to scream.-Or, Louis is a struggling witch desperate to prove himself after yet another magic disaster and finds a calling in the haunted house of client Niall Horan. Things get more complicated when he’s assigned a case partner: acclaimed medium and ex-boyfriend, Harry Styles.
Relationships: Gigi Hadid/Zayn Malik, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 209
Kudos: 991





	just a flicker in the dark

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, hello, Happy (early) Halloween! This fic started as a spontaneous 7k written on October 1st (a direct reaction to Louis' tweeting spree? perhaps), set aside while I finished another 60k+ fic, and then eventually finished on October 28th. Never in a million years did I expect it to be this long but I really shouldn't be surprised. 
> 
> Additional Warnings for: barebacking (with magic protection? just go with it), mentions of blood, mentions of death and suicide, and implied panic attacks. Also just a disclaimer, pretty much all the worldbuilding and magic/supernatural element world building in this fic is from my own brain so suspend your disbelief and just go along with it! Everything will be explained. This fic also isn't supposed to be scary but still read at your own risk.
> 
> And: no one dies. I'm physically incapable of doing that. 
> 
> Thank you [Sarah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soldouthaz/pseuds/soldouthaz) and also Chelsea (even if you only read half) for reading this over for me and encouraging me every step of the way. I don’t know what I’d do without you guys. And a special thank you to Hazel for suggesting the name of Louis' familiar! She's the real star of the show, to be honest <3

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

“I’m telling you, you’re making a mistake,” Liam says firmly. 

Louis scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You’re overreacting,” he says, continuing to type out the _I’ll be there Friday at noon!_ which he’s sending to their recently made official new client. “It’s one month.”

“Look, it’s not that _we_ don’t think you can do it,” Gigi says and Louis shoots her a look. She raises her hands in surrender. However, she continues a second later. “But do you really want to piss off the council again?” 

“They don’t have to know,” Louis says with a shrug, hitting send on the text and watching the checkmark pop up to signify that it’s been delivered. “It’s none of their business on whether I can handle this perfectly simple and mild case, anyway,” he grumbles. He thinks back to the strongly worded letter he received in the mail, complete with the familiar green seal on the envelope that was the biggest proof of just how much trouble he was in. 

“I just don’t understand why you can’t take Zayn with you,” Liam says uneasily. “He’s a medium which your best bet if it truly is a spirit lurking in the walls.” 

“And are you sure this isn’t about… what happened?” Gigi asks. She and Liam exchange a glance - something that’s happened one too many times over the past few days for Louis’ liking. “We just don’t want you to take this case because you feel like you have something to prove and then end up biting off more than you can chew.” 

“You’re both ridiculous,” Louis says, annoyed. “It’s a house that was built in the past twenty years, for fuck’s sake. There’s no centuries old malevolent ghost lurking in the walls. For all we know, it’ll be a garden gnome getting too adventurous. It’s just a simple case! It probably won’t even take the whole month. Horan is just saying if need be, I have the house for the month.” 

“If the case were that harmless, then you wouldn’t be so eager to get it,” Liam points out, brows furrowing in blatant suspicion. 

Louis sighs. He loves his little family of fellow investigators with all his heart, but _honestly,_ where’s the trust? “There’s no secret caveat I haven’t mentioned, Li, I promise.” It’s not _completely_ a lie.

“Just take Zayn with you,” Liam pleads. 

“I don’t need him for this,” Louis scoffs. “There’s plenty of other cases we’ve got piled up. Why can’t you two just let me take this one?” 

Another exchange of glances. Louis rolls his eyes. 

“But the aura -” Liam starts before Louis interrupts with a groan. 

“Not this again,” he sighs, head tipping back with the force of it. He leans back in his chair and glares at Liam. “It’s a new property!” 

“It could be the land that’s got the bad vibes, not just the house itself,” Gigi says, narrowing her eyes back at him. Her witchmark is on display, swirls of red on her bicep that Louis always has to force himself to look at without envy. It’s difficult to suppress when all he’s ever wanted is his own witchmark. 

“Even so, Liam said himself that he couldn’t get a proper read of it,” Louis complains. Much to his exasperation, Liam had insisted they drive up to Tennifield to check out the house unbeknownst to Niall. Louis had been forced to wait while Liam tried to get a read on the house from the pavement outside, hoping none of the neighbors noticed them acting shady. It had all been for nothing though because all Liam could decipher was that he got a ‘bad’ feeling from the area. 

Louis gets a ‘bullshit’ feeling from that declaration. 

“Just try to understand where we’re coming from,” Gigi says gently. “We’re already a small independent business and we can’t afford the extra scrutiny from the Council if you continue to disregard their terms. They’re only putting you on probation for two months - that’s not that long! It’s already been a week!”

Scowling, Louis crosses his arms and pushes back in his chair, letting it spin him around so he doesn’t have to look at his awful friends any longer. “Easy for you to say - I haven’t gone that long without a case in _years!_ And neither have any of you.”

“Don’t make us put this up to vote,” Liam warns. 

“It’ll be a tie anyway,” Louis grumbles. “Zayn’s on my side.” Their team really is small - just him, Liam, Gigi, and Zayn. Liam is their retrocognition (past) expert while Zayn is their resident clairvoyant or precognition (future) expert. He’s also a medium which means he can convene with the dead when they set up the proper setting - aka, a seance, but all mediums seem to be resentful of that word. 

Gigi is a witch, but not quite like Louis. She’s an actual full-fledged witch - fully in control of her powers and all. Her strong suit is being able to sense and monitor other worlds, and also for self-made portals. The affinity, marked by her red witchmark, is rare compared to the typical talents of potions (purple) and spell work (blue).

Louis has no idea which of the five affinities he’d have if he ever earned his witchmark but sometimes he likes to dream about it. What color would curl around his skin in the intricate swirls he’s seen on the arms and legs of so many fellow witches. His mother’s witchmark is green - an elemental witch - and he can still remember the day she sat his twelve-year-old self down and explained that magic existed in their world. It was the same morning Louis woke up with his sheets flung off the bed and a strange thrumming in his veins. 

“You’re debuting,” his mother had explained. Out of all witches, only about ten percent were male and Louis was apparently one of them. He had woken up with magic coursing through his bloodstream, pulsing and itching to be let out.

She went on to show him her witchmark and explain the affinities. “When you master your magic, your witchmark will appear on your body and you’ll be a true witch.”

The only thing is, that had been twelve years ago and Louis still hasn’t been able to fully control his abilities. He still wakes up to sheets flung across the room and that spark flickering through his body. And sometimes it breaks out of him when he doesn’t want it to and causes more trouble than he could have ever intended. 

Last week was a perfect example of that. 

He’s twenty-four years old and he still hasn’t earned his witchmark - hasn’t mastered his abilities or learned to manipulate them instead of letting them manipulate _him._

Gigi sighs, breaking him out of his depressing thoughts. “Just be careful, babe. Okay?” she says.

“I always am,” he says, ignoring the looks of disbelief on their faces. The lack of faith they have in him - _honestly!_

“I’m still concerned,” Liam starts. 

“It’s only two hours away, for fuck’s sake,” Louis interrupts. He throws his head back, sending the chair spinning again. “It’s not like I’m disappearing off the face of the earth. You can call me every day if you’re so worried.” 

“What happens when the gnome steals your phone?” Gigi asks, lips curving into a smile. 

Louis scoffs. “I can take a gnome,” he says flatly. 

“It just might be difficult considering you’ll be around the same height,” says Liam, lips twitching. He raises his hands in surrender when Louis grabs his newly purchased paperweight and lifts it threateningly. 

“Oh my god, a witch paperweight, seriously?” Gigi says, laughing out loud. 

“It’s cute,” Louis defends. It’s a mini statue of a witch on a broom, hat and familiar included. While familiars are definitely a big part of a witch’s life (Louis has his baby, Venus - a black cat, and Gigi has her raven, Eclipse), he has no idea where the pointed hat stereotype came from but he finds it admittedly cute. He’d even consider wearing one himself if people wouldn’t look at him strangely. The curious stares he gets when he starts radiating magic energy in public is already enough. 

Not that he’s even much of a witch anyway, he thinks bitterly.

“Anyways,” he says, realizing he’s gotten distracted again, “this is happening and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Zayn!” Gigi yells. 

The man sticks his head in from the back room where he’s spent the day organizing his ‘seance’ equipment since he finally convinced the other three to have the extra space in their already cramped office. “Hm?”

“Are you really okay with Louis taking this case?” Liam asks. 

Louis glares at him. “I’m a member of this team like any of you. All of you have taken on cases independently in the past - why can’t I?” 

“It’s an easy case,” Zayn shrugs, eyes softening when they dart over to Louis’ rigid body. “He’s got this, guys. And we’re here if he ever needs anything.” 

“You’re my favorite,” Louis tells him, sighing in relief. 

“You’re right,” Gigi says then, biting her lip. “Sorry, Lou.” 

They all look at Liam expectantly.

“Okay, _fine,”_ he gives in, grimacing. He gives Louis an apologetic look. “I hope you know our concern had nothing to do with whether you’re capable or not.” 

“Yeah, yeah. You’re worried about the stupid council, whatever,” Louis grumbles. “It’s fine, Li.” He also knows that he’s the newest member of their team and no matter how much they’ll deny it, they don’t entirely trust him yet. Liam, Gigi, and Zayn had been a trio before he joined up a little over a year ago and Louis still isn’t completely sure he’s been initiated into the group. They’re all friends, of course, but the three of them have been in the paranormal investigation business for years and have solved hundreds of cases - it’s just yet another thing Louis hasn’t quite mastered. 

“You’re leaving Friday?” Gigi asks, and he nods. “I’ll brew some potions to take with you, _just in case.”_

He nods again, accepting that he’ll have to tolerate the excessive hovering. 

“It’s probably just a gnome,” Liam murmurs, so quiet that they probably weren’t meant to hear it. It’s like he’s trying to convince himself that he isn’t making a mistake. Louis tries not to feel too offended about it. It doesn’t really work. 

Zayn wisely changes the topic then, discussing the case he’s been working on all week of a spirit trapped in the master bedroom of a newly married couple who’s been creating chaos when the clients were trying to have some alone time. 

Louis listens and masks the inadequacy settling in his chest. How many years have to go by and how many cases must be solved before the feeling of not belonging to their little group dissipates from his mind? For them to accept him as a vital member of the team? 

And how long will it take for him to accept _himself?_

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

“Venus, baby, get off of me,” Louis coaxes, holding his phone to his shoulder with his ear and trying not to jump when Venus leaps from his other shoulder down to the bed right on top of a pile of clothes he _just_ finished folding. He sighs, grabbing hold of his phone properly before putting his hands on his hips and narrowing his eyes at her. 

She jumps to the floor in seconds. 

“Good girl,” Louis coos, turning back to his half-filled suitcase. It stuck him halfway through the episode of Friends he was watching with his dinner (take-out), that he was planning on driving up to the house tomorrow morning… and he hasn’t even started packing. 

So for the past hour he’s been rummaging through his closet for clothes and gear. He’s bringing a blaster, of course. The handheld device dispels dark energy with concentrated magic and is a staple for all ghost hunters dealing with a potential malevolent phantom. He doesn’t even know if he’s dealing with a spirit let alone a vengeful one but better safe than sorry. 

Then he’s got his case of pre-made potions and some extra ingredients for backup. He’s never been particularly gifted at brewing - not like Gigi is - but he can whip up a basic recipe if he tries and it’s always good to have the staples and his trusty recipe book on hand. 

Some other tools he’s picked out are ward stones which he’ll set up around the entrances of the house because he’s always been a bit paranoid staying at unfamiliar places on unfamiliar terrain, a detector which can scan for paranormal activity (it only picks up undead energy so Louis’ magic won’t set it off), and plenty of sage and incense in case he does end up having to do a ritual sometime in the next few weeks. 

Venus meows and Louis glances at her, gasping when he realizes she’s flicking her tail at one of his coats. “You’re right! I should take that with me, shouldn’t I?” he says. He picks it up and folds it neatly, adding it to the stack. 

Then he surveys said stack and its neighboring stacks, glancing between them and the cramped suitcase as his mind runs over more items he has to pack including food for Venus who’ll be coming with him and his spellbooks. “Well.” 

He doesn’t have to be a clairvoyant to know he’s got a lot of stuffing in his future. 

About halfway through his first attempt, his phone rings, making him jump back and causing Venus to meow loudly, warning him away from the sharp corner of his desk which he was seconds away from bumping into. 

Sending the familiar a grateful look, he grabs his phone and answers without looking at the ID. 

“Hey, Lou,” says the caller. It’s _Zayn,_ which takes him by surprise. The man barely likes to communicate in person let alone via phone call.

“Hey, Z, everything alright?” he asks cautiously. Against his rationality, his mind conjures the worst scenario cases: Zayn’s at the hospital, Gigi broke up with him, Gigi’s in the hospital - 

“Yeah, uh, just wanted to check in,” he replies awkwardly. “Have you started packing yet?”

“Yes,” Louis answers proudly.

“Let me rephrase that: have you _finished_ packing yet?” Zayn asks, a layer of amusement in his tone.

Louis huffs. “I’ll have you know I’m almost done.” It’s not like he’s notorious for his tardy packing or anything, pfft. 

Zayn snorts at him and he pouts. “And would you confirm that with a picture?” he asks, amusement glittering in his voice. 

“Did you just call to harass me?” Louis complains, shooting Venus an exasperated look like _can you believe this guy?_

“I actually called you because I’ve got some bad news,” Zayn says, tone abruptly changing to something more apprehensive and tense. 

“Oh no, what’s wrong?” Louis asks, mind racing to interpret the sudden level of upset in Zayn’s voice and what it means. 

“Just don’t get mad, okay? We just found out a couple hours ago,” Zayn says, only increasing his worry. 

“Zayn,” he says carefully. “What’re you talking about?” 

The man sighs, sounding like he’s preparing himself. “The council found out about you taking the case… and they’re requesting that you take on a partner,” he says slowly. 

Louis blinks. Pauses. Blinks again. Bites his lip. “Oh,” he breathes, words feeling like knives. 

“We asked them if it was really necessary but they’re insisting,” Zayn says softly - apologetically. 

Shutting his eyes tight to quell the burning, he takes a deep breath. “Right, so… You’ll be joining me, I presume?” 

“Not exactly,” Zayn says. 

He furrows his brows. If he had to have a partner for this case, he assumed they’d continue with their campaigning for Zayn since he’s a medium and it might be useful. “Gigi? God, it’s Liam, isn’t it?” He wouldn’t mind being partnered with Liam normally, but his uneasiness about the whole case is only going to make _Louis_ uneasy and that’s the last thing he wants. 

“Uh, not quite… The council, er, they’re sending someone themselves.” 

Louis blinks again, words processing bit by bit before registering. “What?” he blurts, heart pounding. It sounds like Zayn just said -

“They’re sending someone from the Paranormal Department,” Zayn admits, voice scratchy. “A medium. They’re going to meet you on Saturday.” 

“What the fuck,” he mutters, switching his phone to the other ear as Venus jumps up onto the dresser and tries to bat at his arm. “What the fuck.”

Zayn winces, sounding sympathetic. “Sorry, mate.” 

“They’re sending me a paranormal investigator from the _Department_ ?” he repeats flatly. “Oh God, this is just great.” He tips his head back and sighs at the ceiling. “It’s probably going to be some entitled middle-aged man who thinks he’s better than everyone else and wants to do everything the _traditional_ way. Fuck, Zayn, I really will be there all month!”

“The letter said they were sending their ‘best,’” Zayn offers hopefully. “Just relax, Lou. It’s a simple case, yeah? If he’s a dickhead, s’all the more motivation to solve it as fast as possible.” 

Louis grimaces, before biting his lip. “Yeah,” he murmurs awkwardly. “You’re right.” A prickle of uneasiness sparks inside him. “Just annoyed about the whole thing, honestly. I mean - it’s like they’re sending me a babysitter.” 

“It is pretty shitty,” Zayn agrees. “But it’ll be fine, babes. You can handle a middle-aged man with an ego.”

“It is my hidden talent,” Louis agrees jokingly. He rolls his lips together thoughtfully. “Do… do Liam and Gigi agree that I need supervision?” 

“What? _No!_ No, of course not,” Zayn sputters, sounding stunned. 

The firm assurance eases some of the insecurity bubbling up in his stomach and he sighs. 

“Lou… I know they weren’t acting like it yesterday but they do recognize how vital you are to the team,” Zayn says gently. 

“I know,” Louis says, biting his lip. This is exactly what he didn’t want - pity. “Just pretend I didn’t say anything.” 

“You’re going to solve this case,” Zayn says firmly. “Even if your partner is an ass. You’re smart and you can do this. And all three of us _know_ you can. We believe in you and we trust you. I promise.”

“Thanks, Z,” Louis murmurs, shutting his eyes for a minute in a halfhearted attempt to pretend that he believes the words, even just for a second. Clearing his throat, he decides it’s been a sufficient exchange and bites his lip again. “I have to finish packing so…” 

“Right, of course, I’ll leave you to it,” Zayn says. “Remember to call us! We’re going to miss you for the next few weeks.” 

“It hopefully won’t be that long, but I’ll miss you guys too,” Louis says, pursing his lips. “Bye, Zayn.” 

“Bye, Lou.” 

Louis hangs up and flings his phone onto the bed with a sigh. Venus purrs softly at him, tilting her head as if asking if he’s okay. 

“Just swell,” he mutters to her, turning back to his pile of clothes. 

Zayn sounds so genuine, is the thing, and it feels reassuring, yes, but also makes guilt grate at his insides. He feels a bit ashamed - like he’s keeping something from him and the others, even though it’s not even a big deal. 

He doesn’t even know _what_ it is. 

All he knows is that the first time he read the email application from Niall Horan about his ‘haunted’ house, there’s been something pulling him towards the case, something propelling him to type out a reply asking for more information without discussing it with the others beforehand like he normally does. 

The pull only got stronger when Liam dragged him along to his totally-not-sketchy survey of the land and didn’t falter even when Liam told him about the bad aura he was reading. 

Louis has heard rumors about things such as a witch’s intuitive but that’s just that - they’re rumors. And again, he’s not exactly a witch anyways. But he can’t deny there’s something there, something telling him that this case is more than just a simple investigation that the others think it is. It may be stupid or all in his head, but Louis has got a genuine feeling about this case. 

A _feeling_ feeling _._ Something tugging at his gut, reeling him in closer and piquing his curiosity. There’s something more here - something waiting to be figured out. A mystery ready to be unravelled. A house calling out to be explored. 

Out of their team, Louis has always been the best at the sleuthing part. The research, critical thinking, figuring things out - the classic and proper investigation of it all. Nothing feels more satisfying than digging down deep into a case and learning it inside out - then solving the case and feeling that thrum of pride run through him. It’s his favorite feeling. 

Zayn, Gigi, and Liam may have their roles on the team figured out, but Louis can figure this case out. And he can do it by himself if he needs to. 

Stuck-up partner or not, Louis Tomlinson is solving this case. 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

“Right, so here’s the kitchen,” says Niall Horan, his client and the owner of the supposedly haunted house number 28 on Thistlewood Lane. He strides to the fridge, opening it and peering inside, before shutting it again. “I left some groceries in there - not really to be a good host, mostly just because I was too lazy, but feel free to use them!”

“Um, thanks,” Louis says, trying to keep up with the man’s quick strides as they head through an arch into the living room. He’s known Niall for less than an hour and the man seems to have no concept of traditional first-meeting behavior because he greeted Louis with a hug and has been talking to him like an old friend for the past twenty minutes. He’s oddly adaptable too, accepting Louis’ news about having a partner who’ll be joining him on the case just as easily as he accepted his identity as a witch (almost-witch). 

“Living room,” Niall says, gesturing to the couch and coffee table and finally to the TV bolted to the wall. “Feel free to use my cable too, but you’ll have to use your own account for Netflix.” 

“Right,” Louis says, biting his lip. They’ve already gone through most of the ground floor and he’s dropped off his stuff in the guest room upstairs where he’ll be staying, but Niall hasn’t brought up the actual reason they’re here yet and he doesn’t know if he should cut straight to it. “Um, how long have you been living here again?” 

“Only a couple months,” Niall says. “I’ve been slowly moving in for about six months but mid-August was about when I moved in properly. My girlfriend was set to move in with me this month but… that’s obviously been postponed till we - or _you,_ I should say - figure this out.” 

“The property has been around for only a couple of years, you said?” Louis continues, feeling an unexpected rush of that same ugly inadequacy course through him. 

“Yeah, it’s a new one.” Niall taps his fingers against the wall distractedly, a furrow between his brows. “The realtor was really hell bent on selling this property, to be honest. Told me full-disclosure they’ve gone through three buyers in the past two years but both deals fell through. I figured it was nothing, y’know - I mean, for the price I paid, this house is _incredible._ I genuinely couldn’t believe my luck. I’ve been looking around for houses for a good while now - me and my girl wanna settle down. But this was like a dream come true. Obviously, I didn’t realize there might be a reason no one else has stuck around.” 

Louis hums at that, finding a segway. “Can you explain to me what exactly makes you think your house is haunted? You mentioned something about the backyard in your email?” 

Niall nods, suddenly looking solemn. He heads to the sliding door that leads out to a barren yard. There’s nothing but shrubs and a lone porch swing in the space. “The backyard is the last spot I wanted to renovate but my little nephew was going to come over so I wanted to at least set up a swing, but when I was out there a lot of strange stuff kept happening.” 

“Like what?” Louis asks, gnawing on his lip as he stares at said swing. “Can I go out there? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I’d like to get a feel for it.” 

“Go ahead,” Niall says, grimacing. “I’ll just stand here.” 

He nods, sliding the door open and stepping outside into the backyard. From Niall’s ashen face, he almost expected to be assaulted with an evil sensation but he just feels normal. He left his detector back upstairs so he can’t check for sure but it doesn’t feel like there’s any spirit energy radiating in the air. “What strange things?” he prompts again. 

“Just creepy shit. My tools kept disappearing and reappearing across the yard even when I’d been sitting in the same spot for an hour. Lots of weird noises... Felt like I was being watched too,” Niall explains, shuddering. 

“Sure it wasn’t the neighbors?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow as he wanders further out onto the grass. 

“What? Like the nice elderly lady next door wanted a show?” Niall jokes, flexing his biceps obnoxiously. “I _was_ lugging a bunch of heavy boxes around.” 

Covering his laugh with a cough, Louis nods and shrugs. “You never know.” 

“Yeah, well, the noises sounded like they were coming from close by - like, really close by,” Niall says, lips curling down into a frown. “Who knows - maybe I was overreacting but it felt really strange. It was really cold, too. The forecast said it wouldn’t drop below 24 but it felt like the middle of Winter for a few minutes there. I’m telling you, it was the _strangest_ thing.” 

Louis pulls out his notepad to make a note. Weather manipulation isn’t really spirit territory but it is well within the realm of pixies - tiny little creatures known for causing mischief and often possessing the ability to mess around with temperature and elements. The only thing is, pixies tend to travel in groups and there’s _no way_ Niall’d be the only one having complaints in this small town neighborhood if there truly was a pack of them nearby. 

“Also, just in interest of being honest, I recommend keeping an eye on that cat of yours,” Niall says after a moment. Louis glances at him curiously, thinking of Venus. It was a no-brainer that she’d be coming along with him for the case, both of them too dependent and lonely to part for too long. He introduced her to Niall when he first arrived but the familiar had disappeared not shortly after, off on her own personal investigation of the new terrain. “My girlfriend brought her dog here once and he acted weird all night - almost as if he was scared.” 

“I will,” Louis says, making a note of that too. Animals tend to be a bit more instinctual than humans - there’s no voice in their heads trying to explain every occurrence or assume overreaction, just pure feeling and observation. If a dog felt something weird about this house, then Louis is inclined to believe it. 

“What about the master bedroom?” he asks then, switching topics. They hadn’t been in there yet, having gone straight to the guest room to drop off Louis’ things and only pausing so Niall could point out the bathroom before heading back downstairs. “You mentioned there were more noises there?” 

Niall nods, looking queasy. “That’s when I really realized something was off. That same night and all the nights after - there’d be creaking and tapping in the walls.” He shudders again. “I’m not one to get spooked easily, but Jesus Christ.”

“That is strange,” Louis agrees, narrowing his eyes. This is a new property which means there shouldn’t be any creaking or other sounds that are more common of an older house. “And that’s all. It’s just been noises?” 

“Well, okay… this might sound crazy, but,” Niall says, hesitating and clearing his throat. “One time I woke up in the middle of the night and there was this really loud sound, right? And at this point it had been a few days and I was getting sick of it so I got up to go check and turned on my phone light...” He blanches. “There was a… shadowy _thing_ by the window. It sounds crazy, I know, but it looked so real. And the cold was back then too! I panicked and ended up running out of the house to drive to my mum’s at four in the morning.” 

“That does sort of sound similar to a report of a spirit sighting,” Louis admits, scratching his arm as he mulls it over. “I’ll have to run a detector and see for sure though.” So it’s not a garden gnome, he muses. But he still feels like there’s more to it than he thinks. If it really is a spirit - where the hell did it come from? 

He thinks back to what Gigi said about it maybe not being the house that’s haunted but the land, making another note to do some more research later on. 

“Anyways, I have a meeting to get to about now. Any other questions before I go?” Niall asks, glancing at his watch before clapping his hands together expectantly. “You’ve got my number if you can think of any more later on. I just want this fixed as soon as possible.” 

Louis does one last scan of the backyard, something prickling at his conscience the more he lingers, before he walks back to the door. “What’s your wi-fi password?” 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

After Niall leaves, he does another perusal of the house, more drawn out and in-depth this time. He takes note of the entrances and exits of the house, counting the windows in each room and testing the hinges to see if they’d be capable of causing a creaking noise. 

From what Niall’s told him and from what he’s seen from that brief tour, the house has a typical layout. It’s a pretty open floor-plan too, reception leading into the dining room then kitchen and living room. Upstairs is the master’s bedroom which he surveys carefully, eyeing the large window where Niall said he saw the ‘thingy’ before using his retrieved detector to do a quick scan. No paranormal energy gets picked up but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. It’s a man-made simple device which means there’s only so much accuracy it can possess. 

Not to mention, if it _is_ a spirit, they could have sensed Louis as being a threat and hidden away. Louis isn’t too worried about that either. There’s only so long a spirit - especially if said spirit is a poltergeist that thrives on physical actions - can lay low. 

And Louis will be here, alert and waiting, to catch it the moment it slips up. 

He does a scan of his guest room too, then the bathroom and the small study where Niall says he uses whenever he works from home. He even peeks into the garage, empty of any car but featuring some shelves stocked with tools and what must be leftover paint. 

It’s around lunch when he finishes his own personal tour, returning to his guest room and getting out the appropriate pages in the extensive report that every single one of them are forced to fill out for every single case, on Liam’s insistence of course. Venus reappears around then, hopping into his lap and demanding affection. 

While he fills out the papers and scratches behind the familiar’s ears, he starts thinking of a game plan. Unfortunately for him, one of the terms of this whole partnership thing is that they do things together but Louis is already thinking up ways to get past that. As far as he knows, the medium won’t be staying at the house with him, which leaves Louis at the advantage of being on-site 24/7. 

His curiosity for who exactly will be showing up on the doorstep tomorrow morning as decided returns and he spends some time wondering apprehensively once again what they’ll be like. 

Eventually, he gets hungry and he goes downstairs to mess around in the kitchen, whipping up a quick lunch with the ingredients in Niall’s fridge before making a mental note to transport some groceries from his own fridge back at the flat a bit later. He may not be able to conjure things out of thin air, but he can conjure things here that he has stored somewhere else, and that’s convenient enough for him.

After lunch, he gets out the ward stones and sets a couple by the front door, saving the majority for the back door as he thinks of Niall’s apprehension around it. He casts a protection spell too, the words to the simple incantation unsure and hushed and his body tense as he prepares for an unexpected disaster. It’s such a basic spell centered around refracting dark energy - one of the first he learned when his mother started teaching him - but even the most standard spell can be twisted if Louis doesn’t cast it well enough.

Thankfully this one holds with no trouble, permeating around the house like a tangible force field. It can’t dispel anything that’s already rooted itself on the property previously but it can prevent any more dark energy from entering the house and that’s always a comfort. 

He ends up taking Niall’s invitation to use the TV after that, propping his feet up onto the table and scrolling through the channels until he stumbles upon The Office. Laying around and watching films all afternoon isn’t exactly productive to the case, but Louis really can’t (shouldn’t) be doing anything until his partner and him discuss it. 

So until then, he allows himself to be lazy. 

Dinner rolls around and he has pasta while watching A Cinderella Story with Hillary Duff and Chad Michael Murray, blinking back tears and sniffling when Sam and Austin kiss in the rain. For some reason, this movie always gets him. 

He’s so distracted by the ending that he nearly misses the loud thump sounding through the room. Freezing, he lets the tune of the end credits drone in the background as he waits for another noise. 

When it doesn’t come, he slowly untenses. Keeping the detector on him at all times ends up being a good choice. Louis flicks it on, getting up and out of his blanket nest on the couch as he walks to the middle of the room and holds it out. 

There’s no telltale ring signalling ghostly energy even as Louis walks around the room, holding it at different lengths from himself, high and low. He even opens the sliding door and sticks his head out into the hazy evening fade to see if he catches anything outside.

But there’s absolutely nothing. 

Brows furrowing, he closes the door and returns to the couch. “Venus?” he calls out, wondering if she could be responsible for the noise but mostly just seeking the comfort she radiates with every flick of her tail and blink of her wide amber eyes. It takes a minute for her to find him, slinking into the room and nuzzling up into his leg with a soft purr. 

Louis picks her up and switches the TV on again, but even as he finds something else to watch, his attention doesn’t hold. He’s on high alert ghost hunter mode and remains in it even as he retires up to his room, changing into pajamas and brushing his teeth.

When he gets settled in bed, under an admittedly unnecessary number of blankets with Venus curled up on the foot of the mattress and a detector on the nightstand, he forces himself to relax. He isn’t exactly sure how big the chances of his rest being disturbed are tonight but he’s still going to try and catch as much sleep as possible. He’ll probably need it if he’s going to tolerate the Department crony arriving tomorrow morning. 

So with a last scan of his surroundings, he turns off the light and closes his eyes. 

He falls asleep in minutes. 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

It’s around eight in the morning when a knock sounds at the door, firm and loud. Louis is halfway through lifting his morning cup of tea to his lips when it rings through the house, brows raising in surprise. 

He sets the cup down on the table, lips rolling into a frown as he gets up and heads for the front of the house.

His partner is annoyingly early. 

Louis is still dressed in the leggings he slept in and a worn-out Amy Winehouse shirt, hair most definitely tousled and lips chapped. He’s in no state to meet some potentially egotistical Department-kiss-ass ghost hunter. 

He was surprised to sleep well after Niall’s description of noises, but aside from a strange thud while he was washing his face in the bathroom, he hasn’t heard anything out of the ordinary. He won’t be fooled that easily though - especially if it really is a ghost, he won’t underestimate their cleverness nor their ability to lull him into a false sense of security. 

Another knock and Louis sighs. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he grumbles, jumping when Venus appears, purring as she winds between his legs and almost makes him trip. “Bad kitty!”

He wraps his hand on the door, taking a deep breath and sending one last prayer to the universe that he isn’t going to be stuck with some obnoxious traditional medium or worse, someone who thinks his magic is sinful and will force him to suppress it. 

The door opens slowly and Louis blinks at the man standing outside before freezing in place, shock flaring at his insides. 

Because standing on the doorstep is none other than Harry Styles. Acclaimed ghost hunter, esteemed and well-respected medium, and also, Louis’ _ex-boyfriend._

A mirrored expression of surprise is plastered on Harry’s face meaning he’s just as caught off guard by this unexpected change in events. However, he seems to gather himself quickly, clearing his throat and grimacing. “Hi, Louis -”

Louis slams the door in his face.

To be fair, it was an instant reaction, not an intentional sign of hostility or fury (though both of those are still undeniably present). As soon as that familiar deep voice registered in his ears, his hands were moving, activating his flee mode. 

_Harry Styles_ is his case partner. High and mighty, annoyingly smug Harry Styles who’s known him for years and has fucking _seen him naked for fuck’s sake._

He glances at Venus who’s blinking up at him with curious eyes, no doubt sensing the agitation sparking in his magic. 

“This is not happening,” Louis says loudly. “This is not fucking happening. I am going to _kill_ Liam, oh my god.” He doesn’t even know if Liam is responsible for this but it feels like something he’d do to drive Louis absolutely insane - exes don’t just show up to your assigned haunted house out of nowhere. “Fucking fuck!” 

He nearly jumps when Harry knocks again, his muffled voice carrying through the wood. “I can hear you, you know,” he drawls, sounding frustratingly amused. 

Louis exhales, resisting the urge to scream. 

After counting to ten, he forces his hand to wrap around the doorknob again, cringing as he pulls it open and trying not to openly grimace as Harry once again comes into view, dressed in jeans and an awful Hawaiian printed shirt open over an undershirt that looks like something a middle-aged dad would be wearing. Even worse, he somehow makes it look _attractive._ Louis straightens up and schools himself on instinct, maintaining eye contact as Harry smirks at him. 

“Still talking to yourself, I see,” he says. It’s genuinely unfair how ridiculously handsome he looks right now. He’d even go as far as cosmically wrong. 

The temptation to slam something again - either the door on its hinges or his knee in Harry’s crotch - is almost irresistible. Louis refrains, but just barely.

“What the _hell_ are you doing here?” he asks instead, tone completely even as he speaks between his gritted teeth. 

“What do you think I’m here for?” Harry responds, a little furrow forming between his brows as he frowns. “I should have known when the Council said ‘witch who’s unable to control his powers’, it’d be you.” 

Louis can’t lie and say it doesn’t sting. He knows he and Harry didn’t really end on the best of terms, but _ouch._ “This is a mistake,” Louis tells him. “You can leave because you’re definitely not stepping foot into this house.” _With me_ goes unsaid. 

Harry scoffs. “C’mon, Louis. Be mature about this. Neither of us knew this was going to happen but it’s not like we have a choice.” 

“I don’t care about being mature. Don’t you fucking dare step foot inside this house,” Louis says fiercely, going to close the door again right as Harry springs forward and slides a foot in to stop it from shutting. 

“As fun as this is,” he grits, patience wearing out just as fast as it always has. “I was _assigned_ to the case, just like you. I have every right to go inside, so stop being difficult -”

“Asshole,” Louis hisses. Less than five minutes and they’re already arguing. He feels a terrible weight settle in his stomach. There’s no fucking way he can handle this. He steps back abruptly, unfortunately freeing the doorway so Harry can step inside, wearing a small frown on his infuriatingly handsome face. 

Louis is genuinely going to scream. 

“I’m calling Liam. This is a mistake,” he says once he gathers himself, taking a deep breath and trying to calm the erratic beating of his heart. He points a quivering finger at Harry, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t fucking touch anything.” 

“I can touch whatever I want,” Harry rolls his eyes. “I’ve been picked as an investigator for this case and it’s in my jurisdiction, Louis.” 

“That still isn’t confirmed because _this is all a mistake,”_ Louis says, internally hoping if he says it enough times, it’ll actually be true. “Enjoy your view of this room while you have it because you’ll be gone in five minutes.” He yanks his phone out of his pocket and dials Liam’s number with shaking fingers. 

_A joke, a joke - this has to be a joke,_ he’s thinking. There’s no way the universe could be _this_ cruel. Not after everything else that’s happened. 

He gnaws on his lip as the phone rings, ignoring Harry’s exasperated stare as he paces across the room. Venus, on the other hand, has taken it upon herself to approach Harry. 

“You have a cat?” Harry asks, breaking the tense silence as he peers down at the feline curiously. 

“Venus is my familiar,” Louis tells him begrudgingly. He decidedly does not tell him that he found her - or she found him depending on the way you look at it - just weeks after he and Harry broke up, the wounds still fresh and tender. “Don’t touch her either,” he adds belatedly, narrowing his eyes at the man who has a penchant for charming any and all, non-humans not discluded. 

Harry rolls his eyes, glancing down at Venus who looks up at him with wide amber eyes. “She’s pretty,” he says carefully. 

Louis eyes him suspiciously. “I know. S’why I named her after the Roman goddess of beauty. _Wild,_ right?” 

The exasperated look on Harry’s face grows even stronger.

Apparently the universe isn’t completely bent on making him miserable, because Liam finally picks up before Harry can say anything else. “I didn’t even know you got up before eight in the morning,” is the first thing he says and Louis, once again, tamps down the scream clawing up his throat. 

“Liam,” says Louis slowly. “You have one minute to explain why Harry Styles is standing less than ten feet away from me and admiring my cat. And it starts now.” 

“Uh… what?” Liam says blankly. 

“Why the fuck is Harry Styles standing in front of me?” Louis hisses into the phone, turning away when Harry rolls his eyes once more. 

“Is he really?” Liam asks, sounding surprised. “Huh.” 

Rubbing his temples, Louis takes another few deep breaths. “This has to be a mistake,” he says frantically. “I can’t - I can’t work with him!” 

“Well, Louis, unfortunately I don’t have control over that,” Liam says, sounding so nonchalant and unfazed that Louis kind of wishes he could portal as easily as Gigi so he can smack him upside the head. “This is kind of crazy though. Didn’t you guys used to date?”

Louis bites down on his tongue. Hard. “Aren’t you two friends?” he says lowly, eyes widening when he realizes Harry’s started walking to the dining area. “No moving!” he yells. “Not you, Liam.” 

And because he’s Harry, and he’s literally been planted here to drive Louis insane, he doesn’t listen. In fact, he disappears into the kitchen next and Louis is forced to follow after him. 

“We are friends,” Liam says belatedly. “But we mostly hang out at the gym and I think Harry’s switched up his training days so I haven’t seen him in a bit.” 

“Stop it,” Louis hisses when Harry begins tapping at the walls and looking around with his thinking face on. There shall be no thinking from him - only leaving. Shaking his head when Harry doesn’t oblige, he tunes back into the phone conversation. “Please, please, please call the Council and confirm this is all some sick prank.”

“I’ll call them but I don’t think it’ll do much,” Liam says doubtfully. “Pretty sure you’re stuck with him.”

“Figured out I’m here to stay then?” Harry asks, appearing directly next to him and making Louis squeak in surprise. 

He shoots him a look, trying to ignore the part of him that’s realized just how broad and big Harry’s gotten in the past two years. “Just call them,” he says, panic festering in his stomach. How the fuck is he supposed to solve this case and prove himself when his ex-boyfriend is here and already making things harder than they need to be? 

Liam hangs up and Louis lowers his hand slowly, feeling like he’s going to burst if he makes one wrong move.

“So… you burned a hole through your wall,” Harry says, slashing through the flimsy curtain of calm Louis had tried to keep up. 

“Shut up,” he says, voice scratchy. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”

“Your neighbor is fine, right?” Harry continues, because he’s such a narcissistic petty asshole and Louis hates him so much, God. He hates him and his stupid face and stupid arms and he hates how weak he suddenly feels because Harry is _here_ and not looking at him with that unabashed adoration that he used to look at Louis with. 

And he hates that he hates that. 

“She’s fine,” he says after a beat, wrapping his arms around his waist and taking another deep breath. Mrs. Granados begged the landlord to kick him out on the charge of possessing sinful magic but she’s uninjured and the hole in her wall has been fixed so _fine_ seems to be an adequate descriptor. 

“Good,” Harry says, nodding. Then he slumps, eyes flickering over Louis’ face cautiously. “Can we cut the bullshit and just be civil now?”

Louis sucks in a breath. “Why are you here?”

Harry raises his eyebrow. “This again? I was _assigned_ to this case by my boss, Louis.” He frowns, adding more gently, “I didn’t know it was you.”

 _But you aren’t surprised,_ Louis thinks bitterly, not even bothering to pretend he’s not offended. Of all the people who have ever believed in him, Harry had believed in him the most. That faith must have faded like their relationship, he supposes, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt. “I definitely didn’t know it was you.”

“I never thought you’d end up in the business,” says Harry after a moment, squinting at a painting on the wall. 

“Why is that?” Louis asks defensively, already bristling. 

“I mean - you never showed any interest in doing it when…” Harry trails off, both of them able to understand what he means without him finishing the sentence. 

“Yeah, well, that was a long time ago,” Louis says. It wasn’t, really, but it feels like it. He thinks Harry gets it too, chin dipping to his neck in a half nod.

On cue, he gets a text from Liam. Only two words. 

**_sorry lou_ **

“Believe me now?” Harry murmurs, peeking over his shoulder. 

Louis doesn’t respond, unable to speak. 

“Let’s just - let’s just make the best of it, alright?” Harry says then, fixing Louis with an imploring look. “Neither of us expected this but there’s nothing we can do about it now. What we _can_ do is solve this case as fast as possible. And that’s only going to happen if we work together.”

“Fine,” he relents reluctantly. He doesn’t think it’s going to be that easy and he thinks Harry knows it too but he’ll play nice for now. 

“I’m going to take a look around the house now, okay?” Harry says, though it mainly sounds like he’s asking for the sake of it, his mind already made up regardless of whatever Louis might have to say about it.

“Be my guest,” he says flatly all the same. 

Harry leaves him standing alone by the kitchen table.

This time when the scream tears through his throat, he drowns it out with a glass of ice cold water.

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

As expected, their temporary peace doesn’t last long. 

It lasts approximately an hour, to be exact, before everything comes crumbling down. Harry was taking his own tour of the house, pulling out a notepad and scrawling down his notes in his freakishly neat handwriting.

Louis struggles between keeping an eye on him and ignoring him as much as possible, carrying Venus as he follows Harry around the house. Neither of them speak, but there’s a palpable tension pulsing between them - the kind you can only have with someone who once knew you better than you know yourself. 

He nearly jumps when Harry directs a question at him: “I presume you already did a basic scan of the house. What were the biggest energy hotspots?” 

“There are none,” Louis says, shaking his head. “Scanner hasn’t picked up anything. Niall said he experienced the paranormal events in his backyard and master bedroom though.” 

“Backyard?” Harry says. “Interesting. The master bedroom is closest to that side of the house, right?” 

“Yeah, but so is the living room and that’s on the same floor too,” Louis says, seeing where Harry is going with this. “Why pick the less accessible one?” 

Harry just hums, scribbling something else down on his sheet. Without another word, he starts heading for the stairs, and Louis reluctantly goes too. 

“What else did Niall say?” Harry asks, striding down the hallway and pausing to examine some of the paintings and photos hung on the walls. 

“I’ll just give you the report I wrote up yesterday so you can read for yourself,” Louis huffs, letting Venus jump down from his arms right as Harry pushes the door into the guest room. “Hey, don’t go in there!” 

“Wait… are you staying here?” Harry asks incredulously, eyes roaming over the sheets left on the floor because Louis was too lazy to pick them up earlier to the desk scattered with papers and gear. 

“Yes,” Louis says flatly, “and I’d appreciate it if you stay out of here. This is my private space.” 

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to stay in the house that’s supposedly haunted?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow. “If there’s a spirit here, aren’t you afraid of scaring it off?” 

Louis snorts. “If there’s a spirit here, it’s not like it can leave the land it’s haunting. Even if I ‘scare it off’, it can’t exactly go too far.” 

“Still, your presence could be unnerving,” Harry says stiffly, narrowing his eyes. 

Gesturing around them dramatically, Louis raises an eyebrow. “And us poking around the house and using detectors and things isn’t unnerving?” 

Harry frowns, nostrils flaring. “All I’m saying is that this case would go by a lot faster if we didn’t have to chase after a hiding ghost - if it even is a ghost at all. Not to mention, it’s _dangerous_ to stay in an unfamiliar house where there could be negative energy around. Aren’t you the least bit concerned about that?” 

Louis rolls his eyes. “I’ve got my blaster with me and I’ve already put up ward stones and a protection spell. I can take care of myself!” 

“I’m just saying it’s irresponsible,” Harry says, shaking his head. “Especially with your unpredictable magic -”

“Excuse me?” Louis interrupts, ears hot. “You’ve got some nerve talking about my magic -”

“It wasn’t an insult, Louis. Just a fact,” Harry interrupts with a shrug. “That’s not even my main point. Staying in this house poses a threat.” 

“Well, it’s also none of your business,” Louis says, fixing him with a scowl. 

“It _is_ my business if it’s going to affect how long we’re going to be working on this case,” Harry counters. “I’m working on three other cases right now -”

“Three?” Louis interrupts, stunned. “Isn’t that a bit much? The more attention you focus on a case, the easier it’ll be to solve.” 

Harry scoffs. “I work for the Council, Louis. Not a small business that mainly deals with pars magicae. I have to balance multiple cases at a time which isn’t ever an issue because I’ve been doing this for _years.”_

“Are you fucking serious?” Louis hisses, now pissed off. “You’re such an arrogant bastard, God! And how could you talk so haughtily about pars magicae when you fit into the category yourself!” 

Pars and plena magicae are the Latin words used to differentiate between levels of magic. Pars (or ‘part’) magicae creatures and humans have a lower concentration of magic in their blood. They include creatures like gnomes, pixies in England, brownies native to Scotland, leprechauns from Ireland, and more. They also include humans with distinct psychic abilities or clairvoyance, including mediumship which is what Harry has. 

Well, it’s one of two of his abilities but Louis likes to pretend the other doesn’t exist as much as possible. 

Plena magicae, on the other hand, specifies those with strong magic in their DNA. Witches, vampires, werewolves (even if the last two are dying breeds), and other creatures with powerful energies. It also includes spirits, whether they had any magic when living or not. 

“Besides, there’s a reason people trust us small business over Department investigators and that’s because we put our all into a case,” Louis continues, voice raising in pitch the more worked up he gets. He jabs a finger at Harry. “Me and my team always choose to stay in the location where the paranormal activity is occuring not because we’re reckless but because we immerse ourselves in the case. We put _effort_ into every investigation we do. It’s not just an assignment from the Council for us. We take on cases to help people and magical creatures. If your entitled self can’t handle that, then maybe you should drop this case and focus on the three other ones you have piled up. I’m sure they’d appreciate your efficiency and experience more than I do.” 

He hadn’t meant to start ranting but his frustration and anger from the morning’s events has been building up, burning through his body and spilling through his lips before he could stop it. He doesn’t regret it though - especially when he sees the look of surprise on Harry’s face. 

Instead of replying with another retort, Harry just rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Fine, whatever, stay here in the haunted house. Just don’t burn a hole through the wall - don’t think Niall would appreciate that.” He turns without another glance, already heading for the door. “Where’s the master bedroom? I have to leave in ten minutes.” 

He walks off, leaving Louis rooted to the spot, fists clenched in fury. 

Venus meows after a minute, a softer sound like she’s trying to comfort him. Louis sighs, letting the tension leak out from his shoulders. “I’m fine, V,” he assures the feline, before resigning himself to chasing after Harry again. 

The man is standing in the master’s bedroom, writing down more notes. He spares Louis a brief glance, before moving around the room. “What’d he say about this room?” 

Louis reluctantly gives him a lowdown of what Niall told him, hiding a pleased smile when Harry attempts to crouch down and pet Venus only for her to hiss at him and saunter away. His baby is loyal through and through. 

Like a gift from the universe, Harry’s phone buzzes with a reminder cueing him to leave. “I have another client to meet with,” he says even though Louis could care less. 

They walk down the stairs three steps apart and Harry continues talking. “Send me the copy of that report you did and I’ll look it over and add my notes.”

“What’s your number?” Louis cuts in, feeling a bit of the weight in his chest ease the closer Harry gets to the door and to leaving him alone. 

“It’s the same as it’s always been,” Harry says nonchalantly. 

“Well, I don’t have it anymore,” Louis says, knowing full well that Harry’s contact has never been deleted from his phone and is in fact, listed on top in his favorites’ list. 

Harry shoots him a look before ripping a page out of his notepad off and scribbling it down. He hands it to Louis, jaw working, before clearing his throat. “I have a case that should be finished up in the next couple of days. I’ll let you know when I’m going to come over again.” 

“Cheers,” Louis says flatly, brushing past him to open the door. He hopes Harry gets the hint. 

He does, rolling his eyes as he steps out onto the porch. “Watch your magic,” he says, because he can’t just go five minutes without being an asshole. It’s apparently too big of an expectation. 

Louis only debates his idea for about a second before he’s flicking his finger and feeling the familiar thrum of magic course through his body and out through the pad of his thumb. 

A glass of water he had left on the kitchen counter early appears in the air before tipping over and spilling over Harry’s head, soaking his hair and face in seconds. 

Harry sputters, brushing sopping strands of hair out of his eyes. “What the fuck, Louis?” 

“Oh whoops. Guess it must have been my unpredictable magic,” Louis says brightly, hearing Venus purr amusedly behind him. “Bye, Harry.” 

He closes the door in Harry’s fuming face, lips curling up into a satisfied smile. 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

Louis awakens to a thump. 

He sits up in bed, immediately fumbling for the nightstand where he left his detector. He doesn’t turn off the light yet, not wanting to scare whatever it is off. Venus sniffs at the foot of the bed, knowing better than to make audible noise at a time like this. 

He switches on the device and waits, holding his breath as his eyes watch the steady red line, waiting for the blip or ding to notify that spirit energy has been identified.

It feels like ten minutes has passed by the time Louis loses his patience, slumping and letting out a disappointed sigh. Right as he’s leaning over to return the detector to his nightstand, a loud and raspy creak has him stilling, a shiver running through his body. 

Except - the detector doesn’t record any difference, the red line just as steady as ever. Frowning, he scoots to the edge of the bed and grabs his glasses, squinting against the sudden bright light when he switches the lamp on. 

A glance at the clock confirms it’s around two in the morning, and Louis feels shaky on his feet as he pads to the window. It’s open just a crack, but Louis finds himself shivering as he stands there, eyes darting around to see if he can see anything. The detector may not be catching anything but Louis can _feel_ a presence. As a witch, mark or not, he has an increased awareness of paranormal energy even without a detector, and he can feel that awareness poignantly right now. It’s subtle but distinct, seeping into his insides and twisting at his stomach.

Another thud - louder this time, and sounding like it came from outside. Brows furrowing, Louis peers out the window, blinking against the dark night. He can barely see anything except the outline of the moon high in the sky. 

Venus meows behind him, sharp and tinged with something unknown. Louis remembers what Niall said about his girlfriend’s dog sensing something off, and glances down at the familiar. Venus is butting her head against his pajama-clad leg, letting out another strained meow. There’s a rigidness in her posture that Louis has rarely seen and it has him feeling unsettled. 

He crouches down to scratch her behind the ears comfortingly. “You’re okay, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes flickering around the room. The light from the lamp is harsh and glaring, casting murky shadows around the small room. It makes the whole thing feel a lot more sinister, especially when another drawn-out creak has him freezing on the floor. 

It’s been about three nights since he first arrived - three nights of complete peace and no noises, but all of that seems to have gone with the wind. Venus curls into his leg, seeking comfort but also providing it. 

“Hello?” Louis tries, throat dry. Most spirits aren’t interested in conversing with humans whether they’re friendly or not, but Gigi always says it’s worth a shot, making him attempt full conversations to the walls whenever they’re assigned a case together. 

_It must be lonely being a ghost,_ she’d say if she were here right now. _The least we can do is be polite._

“Um, hi? My name is Louis,” Louis says slowly. “I know this is a bit strange - I might be trespassing on your home, er land, I guess. I’m here to help you, not hurt you.” 

To neither his or probably Venus’ surprise, he gets no determinable response. Still, he continues. “I don’t know if you’re a ghost just yet but I’m starting to think so. I understand you could be unhappy with me being here and Niall too. I bet you didn’t want this new house built on your land, didn’t you? But I promise the best thing for all of us is communication. I mean - Niall seems like a good lad. Who knows, maybe he’s open to a phantom roommate?” 

He cringes when another loud and almost threatening thump rings through the room, resonating in his ears in various echoes of _no._

“So you’re an independent ghost, I respect that,” Louis says lightly, glancing down at Venus who’s butting her head into his shin again, almost like she’s trying to tell him to stop it. He narrows his eyes. What does she sense? 

“Right, so… I’m going to be here for a little bit so if you change your mind about remaining silent,” Louis says hopefully. “Um, I’m free every day - and, er, nights, I suppose. Especially if this banging about becomes a routine.” 

Petting Venus’ flank soothingly, he waits a bit longer to see if there’s going to be another sound. When around ten minutes go by with nothing, he sighs. 

“Back to bed, little one,” he says to the familiar, hauling her up and shuffling back to the bed. He remembers belatedly that Niall had mentioned something about temperature change but he doesn’t feel any colder or even warmer than he was before. _Maybe ghostie’s saving some of their cards,_ he thinks amusedly. 

It makes two of them. 

Right before he settles back down under his mound of blankets, he grabs his phone and types out a quick text to Harry. It’s around two-thirty now so it’s doubtful he’ll see it until the morning but Louis still wants to keep him updated. 

There’s only one true way to confirm if they’re dealing with a spirit or not, and he unfortunately needs Harry’s help to do it. They’ve barely spoken these past two days except to exchange more notes and one terse phone call where Harry informed him that one of his other cases was taking up a lot of his time but he’d be much more free next week for them to figure things out. However, if it all goes well with what Louis’ about to ask, they’ll be parting their separate ways much sooner than expected. 

**_first occurence; detector didn’t catch it but i could feel something. free for a seance tomorrow?_ **

He’s asleep before he can see the read tag pop up. 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

As much as he’d never admit it to a certain someone, he’s always found the process of setting up for a seance weirdly fascinating. 

Harry arrives at the house after dinner, dressed in sweats and a white shirt with a look of determination on his face. Neither of them waste any time before unloading everything from Harry’s car and going about their first step of picking a room. As much as having a seance outside in the backyard might be more effective, the prospect of being witnessed by a neighbor is too big to risk. Since the yard is ruled out, the master bedroom is chosen. 

Harry and him are completely quiet as they open the windows and air out the space. Harry pushes the desk against the wall and then the bed too for good measure, leaving a wide open space in the middle of the room. That’s where he lays out his equipment. 

First is a table - small and light. Louis has seen it before, has run his hands over the smooth mahogany the first time he and Harry met. That had been a different house - the house of his friend, Perrie, to be exact. A different house, a different ghost, a different time. 

He glances at Harry as he starts setting out the candles and a box of matches, a stern look of concentration on his face. Unless Harry has drastically changed his methods over the past two years, Louis is pretty sure he knows how this is going to go. 

First, Harry will always attempt channeling, or letting the spirit use him as a temporary vessel while Louis communicates with it based on the questions they already outlined in advance. If that doesn’t work and the ghost is too shy, they’ll pull out the spirit board (or ouija board as humans tend to call it - a name of a popular rip-off brand that has nothing to do with actual magic or medium-level necromancy). 

There’s other tools Harry sets out too: the spirit trumpet which amplifies the voice of a ghost if the channeling works, a spirit slate in case they prefer writing to speaking, and a detector and blaster… just in case. The former two are tools that have been around since the nineteenth century, inventions inspired by the medium renaissance through the Fox sisters in New York City. 

When everything is set up, they leave their phones outside and unplug the lamps and the charger Niall had left behind, not wanting to chance messing with the electricity of the house when the energy hotspot grows hotter. 

The room is dark before Harry lights the first candle, the scratch of matches striking the only sound in the otherwise silent room as he continues to light a total of ten candles in a circle. This is the hotspot. Louis sits cross-legged inside of it, Harry across from him in a similar position. 

Venus is downstairs, because even though she’s always obedient, even the best behaved of animals can all be spooked the moment a spirit makes itself known to them. 

“Ready?” Harry asks, interrupting his thoughts. Light from the candles dances over his face, casting shadows over the angle of his jaw and the slope of his nose and flickering over the green of his eyes. 

“Yeah,” Louis breathes. 

Harry closes his eyes, expression smoothing out until it’s almost as if he’s gone asleep from how still he looks. 

Now comes the hard part: waiting. 

Of the seances Louis has participated in, it’s taken an average of about half an hour for the channel to open, and that’s if it opens at all. Until then he’s forced to sit still, resisting the urge to fidget and biting his lip to prevent any sounds from falling out and breaking the silence. 

Much to his disgust, he realizes the only thing there is for him to pay attention to is Harry. 

He’s gone completely frozen, so stiff it’s like he isn’t even breathing. But in truth, Louis knows he’s purposely remaining as still as possible. He doesn’t know how he and other mediums do it to be honest - he can’t even handle a few minutes before he surrenders to the itch to scratch his arm, which he does as subtly and quietly as possible. 

But Harry looks like he’s on a whole other plane of existence - which, Louis supposes he _is._

Time trickles by excruciatingly slow but Louis stays strong, resorting to imagining songs in his head to keep himself distracted. For some reason, all he can think about is the Mamma Mia soundtrack and he gets to Super Trouper when he realizes it’s been around half an hour. Now back to being alert, he watches Harry carefully. 

A few more minutes pass by and nothing happens. 

Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, Louis tries to shift noiselessly, legs getting stiff from sitting so rigidly for the past thirty minutes. He sends a prayer to the universe that this won’t take much longer because he’s thirsty and sore. 

He freezes again when he sees Harry’s lips dip into a frown. Except, he doesn’t make any other distinct movements which means he hasn’t started channeling yet. Louis glances at the clock. Forty-two minutes. 

Two minutes later, Harry’s nostrils flare. He’s been a statue for such a long time that Louis is honestly impressed he’s lasted this long. Three more minutes and Harry’s eyes are flickering open. They latch onto Louis’, communicating frustration with no other needed assistance. 

They stay staring at each other a little bit longer, waiting for something that doesn’t seem to be coming. 

Finally, Harry breaks the silence with a sigh. “They’re stubborn,” he mutters, but he’s already fumbling for the spirit board. “Let’s see if this is easier for them.” 

The board is a pretty basic design - no extra bells and whistles, just a nearly printed alphabet and ‘yes’ and ‘no.’ The planchette is barely bigger than Harry’s thumb when he rests it on it, eyes fluttering shut as he concentrates. 

It takes a second for Harry to open his eyes again. “Hello, spirit,” he says, voice husky in the hazy quiet. “My name is Harry Styles. I’m someone who can help you.” 

Louis holds his breath, eyes trained on the planchette which remains immobile. 

Harry’s fingers flex as he works his jaw. “I understand you may not want us here,” he continues. “And that you’ve probably been stuck here for quite a while. Well, if you let me - let _us -_ we can get you out. You just have to talk to me.” 

It had been strange to Louis at first how much seances can resemble some form of a therapy session, especially when the ghost does communicate and they can help them find catharsis and pass over into the afterlife. And it’s still strange to him how _gentle_ Harry gets when he’s leading one, how he switches from headstrong ghost hunter to intuitive ghost confidant so easily. 

Louis has maybe always been a little awed by the whole process of talking to ghosts, and he feels that wonder now, watching Harry furrow his brows and finish his spiel. 

“So,” he is what he says, voice hoarse and heavy with conviction. “Tell us your story.”

With a soft exhale, Louis shudders. There’s a reason Harry is known as one of the best mediums in the country and it’s because he knows how to get to people - whether it’s to be an asshole or make a connection with them, he’s the best at it. If there’s a ghost here, Louis would have a hard time believing they wouldn’t speak up. 

But nothing happens. 

They wait a few more minutes before Harry clears his throat, trying again. “Can you tell me your name?” he asks. “Even just an initial?” 

Louis bites his lip, watching Harry frown when nothing happens. 

“I can feel you here,” Harry says softly, but Louis can hear the frustration in his voice. “You don’t have to hide.”

“We can help you,” he says a minute later. 

Nothing. 

Harry slumps defeatedly a little bit later, removing his hand from the planchette and effectively breaking the connection - if there had even been one at all. 

“They’re just stubborn,” he repeats again, running a hand through his hair absently. 

“Are we sure it’s a spirit?” Louis asks, dubious. It’s not often that a poltergeist who seems to be pretty active in terms of physical commotion not want to initiate any form of communication even if it was with ill-intent. 

“It has to be,” Harry says. “Even though they didn’t speak, I could sense them. We just have to wait them out.” 

Louis doesn’t respond, still skeptical. Something is tugging at him, telling him there’s more to all of this than they think - something they’re _missing._ But he stays quiet, helping Harry pack everything up before blowing out the candles. 

He pauses at the last one, watching the little ember glow in the dark, before leaning forward and snuffing it out with a soft exhale. The room is blanketed in darkness and Louis blinks against it, waiting for Harry to plug in the lamp and let the light in once again. 

After they put everything away, Louis finally opens the door, gasping when he realizes Venus is waiting right outside, head pillowed on her front paws. She blinks up at him with wide eyes, layered in shades of worry. 

“Hey, lovely,” he whispers, crouching down to scratch her behind the ears. “We’re done now.” 

Venus has been on edge ever since last night, movements more reserved and meows more quiet. It’s the strangest thing Louis has ever witnessed. His girl is loud and proud - he’s never seen her like this even when she’s accompanied him on other cases. No spirit or house has ever rendered her to a timid creature like this. It’s something else that rubs him the wrong way. 

A cleared throat has him straightening up again, rolling his eyes. Still, he moves out of the way so Harry can exit the room, table tucked under his arm and his case of equipment in the other. 

“So what do we do now?” Louis forces himself to ask, reluctantly following Harry as they head downstairs. “I was thinking we do some research -”

“I think we need to focus on winning the spirit over,” Harry interrupts. 

Annoyance sparking, Louis bites his tongue to hold back a retort. “And how do you suppose we do that when we know nothing about them? If it’s even a spirit at all.” 

“It is,” Harry says easily, turning to give Louis a look. “Trust me, I’d know.” The way he says it, all cocky and sure of himself, is so blatantly a jab at Louis’ lesser experience and it has him pissed off. But he forces himself to remain calm, taking a deep breath. Getting mad and starting another argument is only going to keep Harry from leaving immediately, he reasons. He just has to get him out the door. 

“Should we figure out a timeline, then?” Louis asks. “You’re more available this week, right?” 

“Yeah, we should wrap everything up by Sunday. This case doesn’t seem like it’ll take long,” Harry says confidently and Louis resists the urge to snort. 

“You got that from the silence and noises?” he asks snarkily. “We still don’t know if there’s a spirit here or why it’d be here in the first place. Too many things don’t add up.” 

“Except, it _does_ add up,” Harry says with a shrug. “All the signs point to a ghost. Yeah, this seance was a bust but some spirits are just really difficult. We’ll get to them eventually.” 

“I think we need to look into it more,” Louis counters, narrowing his eyes. “Maybe if you were actually _here_ more, then we’d be farther along but -”

Harry scoffs. “I’m busy, Louis. I know you’re perfectly content staying here all month with a ghost roommate and taking your sweet time, but I’m _swamped_ with cases. I’d rather get this done as soon as possible.” 

“That’s exactly my point,” he insists. “If you were here and focused, then we could have had a better plan and _maybe_ we’d already be done by now! But we’ll never know because you’re never here!” 

“It’s been a few days,” Harry disputes, slowly getting irritated. “Be mature, Louis.” 

“Don’t patronize me, asshole,” Louis snaps, anger blazing in his throat. “You’ve been acting so arrogant and sure of yourself this entire time but we’ve gotten _nowhere.”_

“That’s a bit of a stretch, isn’t it?” Harry says stiffly. “And I already told you this week is going to be less busy, so would you relax? There’s a spirit here and we’re going to help them.” 

Louis bites his lip, tasting blood. “I sure hope you’re right, Styles.” 

“I am,” Harry says, eyes flashing. “Let’s not forget who’s been doing this longer.” 

“You’re such an asshole,” Louis says, rolling his eyes. He still holds the door open for Harry so he can walk outside, but he does it moodily.

The light from the moon casts a glow of white over the driveway where Harry’s car is parked. He opens the back and sets everything down while Louis watches from the porch. When he’s finished, he glances at Louis quickly, looking conflicted. 

“Just… be careful, alright?” Harry says, brows furrowed and expression unreadable. “You’re right about one thing. We don’t know why this spirit is here which means we don’t know how friendly it is.” 

Louis nods, grimacing. “I will,” he promises, unable to hold his prior annoyance when Harry looks genuinely concerned. “You should go. It’s late.” 

Harry nods, hesitating for a second before saying, “Bye, Louis.” 

“Bye, Harry,” Louis says back, voice dropping to something more uncertain as Harry gets into the car and shuts the door, the sound reverberating through the cool night air. 

He forces himself to go back inside before Harry drives away, his previous annoyance now tinged with bitter confusion. 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

Venus is missing. 

He comes to this conclusion when he wakes up without the familiar purring at the foot of the bed, sheets flung across the room as always. 

A quick run through the house calling out her name turns up with no results either. He ends up spilling his mug of tea within a few sips, feeling jittery and weird without his small companion nuzzling at his legs. 

It’s not like Venus has never gone off by herself before. Even though she’s always been a house cat, there have been times she’s needed to get away and gone off on her own, always returning after a few hours and at the latest, the next day. But Louis can’t stop thinking about how strange she was acting yesterday and finds himself getting worried. 

The last time he saw her was early that morning, actually, when he woke up around one in the morning to more strange noises. He had been too tired to get up and investigate this time so all he did was curl deeper into the mattress and tune it out. Venus hadn’t stirred though, dozing peacefully at what’s become her usual spot on the bed. 

But in the morning, she was gone. 

There’s a lot of things Louis panics about - the fact that Venus’ suede tie collar has a habit of falling off and if someone finds her, they won't be able to contact him; the fact that she hasn’t eaten today because Louis hasn’t set out her food yet; the fact that they’re in an unknown neighborhood and Venus isn’t familiar with the land or the potential dangers. And, most of all, the fact that she’s away from Louis. She’s his familiar - his animal companion, his magical partner, and she needs him. 

Louis needs her.

In an effort to stop himself from having a breakdown, he tries to keep busy. He takes it upon himself to use Niall’s bath in the master bathroom, soaking in the tub and trying to relax as much as he can when amber eyes and a soft purr are flashing constantly through his mind. 

He goes over case notes again, updating the team about their progress (or, lack of progress, unfortunately) and catches up on the cases they’ve been handling over the past week. Gigi complaining about the mandatory office clean-up they had to do without him yesterday manages to make him smile, but it doesn’t reach his ears. 

Harry said he’d be coming by later with some special tools for getting the (alleged) ghost to show itself but he didn’t specify a time beyond mid-evening. 

Until he deigns to arrive, Louis decides he’ll watch TV. He settles on the couch and conjures his favorite soft blanket from home to wrap around himself as he grabs the remote. Against his wishes, his mind drifts back to his first night here and the first sound he had heard from their maybe phantom. Beyond noises, they’ve remained achingly silent and Louis is beginning to wonder, once again, if they’re missing something. 

As if sensing where his thoughts have strayed, Louis hears a distinct thud. The skin on the back of his neck prickles with awareness and he resists the urge to shiver. Even though he’s heard plenty of thumps and creaks in the past few days, it doesn’t mean it’s become any less creepy. 

Still, he focuses on the screen and ignores it. He’s definitely not in the mood to go on another wild goose chase that’ll leave him empty handed by the end of it. Only a minute slips by before a creak is cracking through the air, rusty and threatening. His eyes dart to the kitchen table where he left his detector and blaster, mentally reassuring himself that he’d be able to run and get them if anything were to escalate. 

But he continues watching, and if his fingers are curled tightly into the fabric of the blanket, there’s no one there to witness it but himself and a potential spirit. 

The episode he had been watching finishes with no other interruptions and he finally allows himself to detense, letting out a relieved breath of air. Of course, the moment he lets his guard down is the moment he regrets it. 

A loud crash sounds from behind him and he jumps up, heart thundering in his ears. His hands are shaking when he turns around and he immediately sucks in a breath when he realizes the clock that had been hanging on the wall before is now laying in a pile of shattered glass and wood on the floor. 

_Cool_ air washes over him, making the shaking worse. 

Swallowing roughly, he forces himself to take a deep breath. “So you don’t like being ignored. Note taken,” he murmurs shakily, wondering if he’s being watched right now. “Jesus Christ.” 

Just looking at the mess makes him feel anxious so he heads to the kitchen for a broom and a dustpan. “You’re fine,” he murmurs to himself. It’s not that he’s afraid of ghosts - in his occupation that’d be wildly inconvenient. But there’s something about how little they know about this particular case and about Venus’ disappearance that has him rattled. Even with the most angriest ghosts he’s faced in past times, he’s never felt this lost. 

Pushing those thoughts out of his mind, he starts brushing up the glass and into the dustpan, wincing because he’ll have to let Niall know and probably buy him a new one. His agitated thought renders him careless and he ends up cutting himself on a shard, gasping out in surprise. 

“Fucking great,” he mutters, abandoning the broom as he drops to the floor with a defeated sigh. It’s not a big wound by any means, but the blood currently pouring from the side of his index finger didn’t seem to get the memo. Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, he tries to conjure a first aid kit because he doesn’t know where Niall keeps his. 

Looking back on it, he probably should have taken into consideration how edgy he felt and how his fingers were quivering before he tried to perform any magic. 

It only takes him a second to realize that the usual thrumming in his body whenever he casts a spell or conjures feels more pronounced and less controlled - a frisson of heat growing at his fingertips as his mind goes fuzzy. “Shit,” he breathes, right as he’s knocked backwards. 

The first thing that registers beyond the ringing in his ears, is a sharp throbbing in the back of his head. Spots dance in his vision and he groans, sitting up carefully. He blinks rapidly, waiting for the blurriness to subside as he holds his head carefully. 

“Louis?” a voice says, tinged in confusion and maybe a bit of concern. “What the fuck did you do?” 

He could recognize that deep voice anywhere. His next groan is one of annoyance. His eyes flutter shut as he grits his teeth through the pain, suddenly not wanting to see what most definitely is a mess he’s caused - caused in front of _Harry._

Except, apparently injuring himself wasn’t enough to discourage his magic because the thrumming comes back, building up in his veins and dripping through his body. Panic seizes him and he clenches his fists in a lame attempt to quell it. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Harry says and Louis opens his mouth to protest, knowing what he’s going to do. Nothing comes out though so there’s nothing to stop Harry from clamping his hands on the sides of Louis’ face, warmth bleeding through to his skin. 

Almost instantly, the energy slows. The buzzing in Louis’ ears disappears and the thrum dwindles into nothing. Harry’s hands feel red hot against his cheeks, leeching all the anxious magic from his body until he slumps in his hold. 

Louis swallows the lump in his throat, the urge to shove Harry off clawing up his throat. Thankfully he lets go only a moment later, taking the warmth with him. 

“What were you thinking?” Harry asks, sounding angrier than Louis has ever heard him. 

“It was an accident,” Louis says, voice scratchy and tired. He finally opens his eyes, flinching when their surroundings come into focus. The glass he had been cleaning up has been scattered across the floor, but that’s not all. So has the placemats that were on the kitchen table, the pots and pans that were hanging from a holder over the island, his blaster and detector - the screen cracked. “Fuck.” 

This is ten times worse than he expected. He hasn’t - in fact, he’s _never_ caused this much damage from such a small panic attack. It’s never been this bad. He stares at his own hands in horror. They’re both trembling, blood still trickling from the cut, dripping down to the floor in an endless stream. 

“What the fuck. What the fuck, Louis. You’re so lucky I was here in time,” Harry says, lines of his face all angry and sharp when Louis gathers the courage to look at him. “Jesus Christ - what was that?” 

“I don’t know,” he admits, throat dry. He swallows, feeling overwhelmed and ashamed. “I didn’t - I didn’t mean to.” 

“This can’t happen,” Harry says firmly. “This is someone else’s house and you could get into so much trouble.”

Feeling nauseous, Louis can’t even respond. 

“You could have seriously hurt yourself,” Harry continues, sounding almost frantic. “If I hadn’t been there to stop you -”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” Louis says, wanting to cry. He knows it isn’t fair - Harry could have very well just saved his life - but he just feels embarrassed and horrified, in himself and what he’s done.

“Except, I’m one of the only people who _can_ help you when you get like that,” Harry says, looking angrier. The worst part is that he’s right. Because Harry Styles wasn’t just given mediumship as an ability, no - he was also given an incredibly rare and frustrating capability to slow magic energy, also known as power dampening. 

When he focuses, he’s able to slow the energy of anything from an object to a person with nothing but the touch of his hands - he’s able to slow _Louis_ down with nothing but the touch of his hands. It had felt like fate when Louis first found out about a month into their relationship. He may not have his magic in control, but he always had Harry there to keep it from getting out of hand. 

Now it’s just a glaring reminder of another one of Louis’ inadequacies and he feels so fucking embarrassed and ashamed about it. 

Instead of facing it straight on, he sits down. “You still have no right,” he says coldly. 

Harry glares at him. “You have to get your magic in control,” he hisses. “This is _crazy!”_

“Easier said than done, asshole,” Louis says back, gritting his teeth. 

“How the fuck are we going to clean this mess?” Harry asks, sounding almost hysterical as he gestures wildly. 

“You don’t have to do anything,” Louis bites. “I’ll clean it up.” He closes his eyes, and begins murmuring the incantation for a tidying spell.

He doesn’t expect Harry to reach out and grab him by the shoulder, breaking his concentration and making him flinch.

“There’s no way you’re doing magic right now,” Harry says gruffly. “Not when you’re still worked up and frazzled. Do you want to make it even worse?” 

Louis scowls at him. Technically, he knows Harry’s right. He may not be having a breakdown anymore but there’s adrenaline running through his veins and a nervous energy still simmering low in his gut. Harry may have tamped it down but he didn’t get rid of it completely. After all, energy never dies. 

But what comes out of his mouth is, “Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do.” He _hates_ how high and mighty Harry is acting - like he knows Louis better than he knows himself. Maybe he did at one point, but he definitely doesn’t anymore. He doesn’t have the right. 

“Excuse me for being concerned about my wellbeing,” Harry grits, looming over him with clenched fists and flared nostrils. 

“I made a mistake,” Louis snaps. “And I’m sorry about it, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

Harry scoffs. “No, what I _want_ is for this not to have happened! A mistake is sleeping on through your alarm, not destroying a kitchen!”

“It’s not destroyed!” Louis argues, crossing his arms and tilting his head up to glare at him properly. “It’s a big mistake, then. So what?”

“A big mistake,” Harry snorts. “I guarantee you that’s not the same thing. I’ve never done something as big as that and gotten away with calling it a mistake.” 

“That’s hardly the truth,” Louis says, words spilling out in a torrent of bitter retaliation. “Let’s not forget what happened with Adeline Jennings.” 

The moment he says it, he regrets it, face paling when he sees Harry freeze. 

A flash of pain washes over Harry’s face before he’s hardening, eyes blazing with anger. “I see there’s never any hope of being civil with you,” he says, voice clipped. There’s no hint of the Harry he knows in his eyes right now and it’s all his fault. “I have another case to be working on so let’s begin.” 

Pressing his lips together and resisting the urge to apologize, he nods. _Too far,_ he thinks. It was too far - too _cruel._ Louis knows how much that case haunts Harry and he once promised to never mention it again, yet he did so without a second thought because he felt petty. It was wrong and he knows it, but he still stands his ground. 

Needless to say, they barely speak for the rest of the evening. After Louis casts a cleaning spell in which Harry stiffly keeps a hand on the small of his back to prevent him from losing control, they figure out a plan. Of course, Harry suggests they split up between the backyard and master bedroom. Louis offers to go outside, needing the fresh air. 

He stands there, weariness settling in his bones as he looks around the empty spot. The yard looks a lot more eerie in the evening than it does in the day - shadows casting ominous shapes and making a prickle run up Louis’ spine as he holds his detector in one hand and a transmitter on the other. 

While it isn’t a guarantee, the transmitter has the ability to transmit sound waves into the spirit dimension - a sound wave that encourages a response that can be picked up by the detector or even by Louis if he’s lucky. _The true best paranormal detector is yourself,_ he reminds himself. 

The number one rule of luring a ghost, however, is not to overdo it. Spirits are smart and suspicious - they aren’t easily provoked, especially the dangerous ones. So, Louis plans on keeping things simple. He continues the habit of talking, as he walks across the yard, leaves crunching beneath his boots. 

“Hi, Ghost,” he says, cringing right after because even if he isn’t alone out here, it still feels strange to talk aloud. A realization hits him that he could potentially be heard by the neighbors and that’d be _mortifying._ So the next time he speaks, he keeps his volume more subdued. “Um, I hope you’re doing well?” Another cringe. This sort of stuff doesn’t come naturally to him like it does with Liam or Gigi. 

_Or Harry,_ he thinks bitterly. 

Still, he tries. “You sort of spooked me inside there with the clock shattering,” he murmurs, flicking on the transmitter. When he doesn’t get a physical response, he presses the button to send a sound wave, and then waits. 

The breeze rustles through the bushes and a small creak rings through the air. Louis nearly jumps before realizing it came from the swing. With a sigh, he presses the button again. 

“C’mon, Ghostie,” he whispers, right as a loud thud disrupts the quiet. He jolts, heart racing. His eyes are wide as they glance down at the detector, but it doesn’t show any changes. The transmitter hasn’t recorded any reply either. Even so, he can feel the familiar awareness crawling across his body and clawing up his throat. He definitely isn’t alone out here. 

“So you don’t like that nickname, noted,” he says, attempting to remain lighthearted. “Um… wanna tell me anything else?” 

Silence. 

With a sigh, he continues pacing. Even after some more one-sided, awkward conversation, their phantom doesn’t budge. He doesn’t think Harry has much luck either because he looks frustrated when they meet back at the house. 

The urge to apologize for what he said is still lingering inside him, but his mouth stays stubbornly closed. Harry leaves without a goodbye and Louis is left alone in the house again. 

He texts Zayn with an update of their progress (aka: zilch) and receives an optimistic **they’ll crack eventually!** which he’s pretty sure came from Gigi and not the man with a penchant of blunt honesty (always well-intentioned, of course). 

Venus’ absence doesn’t get mentioned because Louis is hoping she’ll be back by the morning, purring and butting into his leg as he makes his first cup of tea of the day. 

When he finally lays in bed, wrapped in blankets but missing his bed partner, he’s never felt more wide awake. 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

The next morning arrives with no familiar and no word from Harry. Louis texts him during breakfast to ask if he’s planning on coming over today but gets no response. It’s clear Harry is still brooding and Louis can’t exactly blame him. 

He takes a shower, eyes going blurry as he stares at the tiles. He shouldn’t have brought up the damn case. It hadn’t even been Harry’s fault. 

Adeline Jennings had been a ghost lurking the walls of an old house in Somerset and Harry had taken Louis along for the assignment, both of them staying at an inn in Bath. Harry had been really caught up in the case, stressed and working late into the night. 

She hadn’t been a violent or vengeful ghost - no, what she was might have even been worse. She was without _hope._ She didn’t want to die though she was already dead and she refused to accept that passing on to the afterlife was her only reprieve. And Harry tried - he tried his hardest to help her come to terms with her death and get to move on. He spent hours talking to the walls and came back to their room every night to unload his worry and frustration on Louis who tried to console him. 

Harry was devastated when he found out she banished herself. Banishing spirits only happens when the phantom is ruled to be a threat to humankind with little hope of redemption. _Self-_ banishment is even rarer. It’s not a purposeful decision, rather something that occurs when ghosts lose _hope._

And though it wasn’t his fault, Harry felt responsible. He’s been in the business of a paranormal investigator for years but this spirit has become one of his inner demons, lingering on in his mind even now it’d seem. 

Louis feels terrible for bringing it up, for saying it had been his mistake. Even if they both haven’t been saying the nicest things over this past week and a half, he crossed a line there. He needs to apologize but he also needs to do that in person, not over text or call. In order for that to happen, he needs to let Harry make the next move. 

Feeling guilty and not wanting to stay alone in this house any longer, he pulls out his laptop and Googles the address to the Tennifield library. He remembers Niall mentioning something about how there was a lot of pride among the citizens for their history, and that there’s an entire section of the library devoted to the town's past. 

The perfect distraction has always been throwing yourself into work, he supposes. 

Looking up directions next, he realizes that’s it close enough for him to walk which means he won’t need to portal. He grabs his jacket and shoes, casting one last glance around the empty living room before heading for the door. 

If the ghost won’t tell him their name, Louis will just have to find it himself.

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

The Tennifield library is small. 

He probably should have expected that but it still takes him by surprise. He’s also the one one there besides the sweet librarian who offers to show him where everything is and gets excited when he mentions being interested in the town’s history. 

“We have such a rich past, it’s so good to see younger citizens taking interest,” she says, smiling widely as they walk towards the back of the building.

“Actually, I’m here visiting,” Louis corrects, smiling awkwardly back as he shoves his hands into his pockets. 

“Even better!” the lady exclaims, looking giddy when they finally stop. A banner reading, “Tennifield Pride,” is hung across the walls and there’s tables set out with books, newspapers, and old artifacts. Some showcases display the more fragile objects and Louis studies them in interest. “What exactly are you looking for, dear?”

“Oh, um, any information on the town and its culture, really,” he shrugs. “I’m actually interested in the history of citizens in particular… any stories and events involving locals and notable past citizens… Is there any newspaper clippings or books specifically about that?” 

“Yes, of course,” she beams, walking to one of the tables. “We’ve got extensive collections of past citizens and occupations and old houses. Majority of the houses we have here in town have been around since before the war - with advancements and adjustments made, of course. It’s mostly the same families too so we keep a detailed catalogue of information like that if posterity ever wants to learn more about their ancestors.” 

Trying to remain nonchalant, Louis nods. “That sounds interesting!” He glances down at the table, scanning the documents set out. “It’s all here?” 

She nods, gesturing to the other side of the room where a big filing cabinet is placed. “We also have every issue of the Tennifield Gazette since 1907 stored in their organized by date if you want to look through! All of them are copies though but if you’d ever want to look at the originals, let me know and we can schedule something.” 

“Okay, sounds good. Thank you so much,” Louis tells her. 

“Of course! I’ll be up front reorganizing the craft book section, if you need more help or someone to chat with,” she says, smiling widely. 

Louis gives her a polite smile, a bit relieved when she finally leaves. He’s definitely not doing anything wrong but he still feels overwhelmingly out-of-place in this library and in this town. Still, he powers through it and starts sifting through books and binders, finding one that notes every past citizen of the town including the present. 

He has no clue what he’s looking for and that becomes increasingly obvious when he realizes there must be thousands of names and addresses listed. It’s a small town but a lot of people have lived there since the first records in 1805 to the last ones in 1980. Their spirit could be any one of them. 

With a sigh, he realizes he’s not going to get far with narrowing people down using this and decides to check out the newspapers. He starts with about ten years back, looking for any articles about a fire and a house burning down. 

Much to his relief, he stumbles across the headline minutes later: **Old Howards’ House Burns Down in Fire.** Sucking in a breath, he picks up the photocopy with gentle fingers. 

_4 October 2008_

_As we’re sure everyone has noticed, the Howards’ house has burned down. The fire started at midnight and lasted approximately forty-two minutes, bearing no injuries or deaths. The damage didn’t spread beyond the property but soot and ashes will undoubtedly be clinging to the air for the next week. The authorities have determined the cause to be a carelessly discarded cigarette butt in the front room which has been a meeting ground for our youth for quite a while. They say the fire caught fast and spread even faster. There was no hope by the time a passerby taking a walk noticed the flames from afar and notified the fire department._

_The Howards’ house has stood on Thistlewood Lane since 1898 though the Howards’ farm no longer exists with it as of 1961. Its tragic past has culminated to a tragic ending -_

Louis stills. Tragic past? He continues reading, feeling the beginnings of a story forming in his mind. 

_-and we will all keep the house and its past inhabitants in our hearts forever. Join us at the Town Hall on October 9th to honor the memories of the Howards’ and their impact on Tennifield at -_

He stops reading, realizing the rest of the article is advertising a town event. Biting his lip, he mulls it over. 1961 gives him a slightly more specific timeframe to work with and so does Howards’, and with some consideration, he decides to return to the citizen records. 

Starting at the 1961 section which he finds in the Table of Contents, he flips through the pages and scans for a familiar address. When he comes up empty, he starts working backwards, words blurring together as he searches for 28 Thistlewood Lane. He doesn’t know how much time he spends skimming pages and biting his lip but when his eyes snag on something familiar, he freezes. Then blinks, almost not believing that he’s found it. _28 Thistlewood Lane._ He glances at the date, 1951. 

With bated breath, he traces a line with his index finger across the thin row so he doesn’t lose the right place in the mess of small print. He stops just over the neatly scrawled name. 

_Alastair Howards._ Louis mouths the name quietly, letting it bleed into his mind as it whirls like a tornado. Listed below him are the names of a wife and an asterisk leading to a footnote that mentions two children, both having been born later. 

“Could you be our ghost?” he whispers, feeling a thread of excitement run through him. Except… all he’s got is a name - a name that he doesn’t even know is actually connected to their spirit. For all they know, their ghost is a spirit of an old farmhand or passing visitor. There’s so much mystery that’s yet to be unravelled and the only way Louis can solve it is my digging deeper. 

However, he realizes then that if he wants more detailed information he’s going to have to ask the librarian some more questions. She’s humming to herself as she stacks books on crocheting and knitting, jumping when Louis pops up beside her. 

“Sorry,” he cringes. “I, uh… I think I need help finding something more specific.” 

She raises an eyebrow, looking intrigued. “What do you mean?” 

“Do you have any information about Alastair Howards and his family?” he asks. 

He doesn’t anticipate the look of shock to flash over the librarian’s face nor the way she sputters. “Pardon?” 

Feeling color flood his cheeks, he repeats more shyly. “Alastair Howards?”

The look she gives him is almost suspicious. “Why do you want to know more about… him?” 

Swallowing roughly, he tries to remain nonchalant - just a random and totally not shady visitor. It’s not like he can just say he’s a paranormal investigator here to free a potential ghost. In fact, all of them make it a habit to keep powers and magic discreet. While being honest is always an option since their occupation exists and is perfectly legal and legit, it’s never truly known how people will react. In London, magic is more widely accepted but there’s people in the countryside who’d look at them with suspicious eyes and the word _sin_ on their tongues. Staying inconspicuous and ‘normal’ is his best bet. 

In the end, he still tries to stay as close to honest as he can. “I’m staying at 28 Thistlewood Lane right now - the new house - with a friend and um, we’re both curious about the history of the land. We heard about the fire and we’re interested in learning more about the old farm and inhabitants.” He attempts a smile. 

Still eyeing him quizzically, the librarian nods. “It’s just… Alastair Howards is a bit of an oil stain on the otherwise _happy_ history of our town.” 

_Bingo?_ Louis wonders, but keeps his face neutral. “What does that mean?” 

She grimaces. “I’ll just find you the newspaper.” 

Louis nods, following her back to the history section as his mind races with possibilities. This Alastair Howards is beginning to look more promising but Louis won’t get sloppy - he’s got to rule out any other possibilities first. _And confirm there actually is a spirit,_ he reminds himself, because there’s still technically no undeniable proof. 

Minutes later and a lot of rummaging in the file cabinet later, the librarian hands him an issue. “I have to warn you before you read for trigger warnings.” 

“What is it?” Louis asks, feeling his magic pick up. _What if it’s something to do with witchcraft-_

“Taking one’s life,” she says gently. 

“Oh,” Louis breathes, the realization hitting him. Alastair Howards took his own life. “Um, no, that’s fine.” 

She nods, handing him the paper which he takes with careful hands. “I’ll be back in the front,” she tells him, sparing an unhappy glance to the paper in his hands before walking away. 

He starts reading immediately. 

_18 August 1958_

_Tennifield has faced an unfathomable tragedy this Monday morning, the 16th, with the loss of Mister Alastair Howards. He was found on his locked personal study with his neck slit._

Louis pauses, exhaling jaggedly before continuing.

_It was determined that he took his own life during the night, alone in the house and not in contact with anyone within a day of his tragic death. The remaining Howards, who were away during the event, have asked for the town to respect their privacy while they mourn. The funeral is scheduled for a week from today at Flos Lake-_

The rest blurs in Louis’ mind. Alastair Howards took his own life - in other words, he has some sort of ‘unfinished business’ or affinity tying him to their world. 

It solidifies in Louis’ mind then and there. He pulls out his phone and only hesitates for a moment before pulling up Harry’s contact and typing out a text. 

**_I think we’ve got our ghost?_ **

He takes a picture of the newspaper and sends it to Harry for good measure, biting his lip as the delivered sign appears. He doesn’t know if Harry’s still angry with him but either way, he won’t ignore a development in their case, not when it means they’re one step closer to getting out of here. Because if this spirit really is Alastair Howards and he really did take his own life, then they know exactly what their mission here is. 

Moving to pocket the phone, he jumps when he hears the ding alerting him to a new message. When he sees the name, he squints, taken aback. Harry texted him back already? 

**call liam to corroborate?**

Louis exhales, rolling his eyes at the thought of having to ask Liam a favor. Begrudgingly, he agrees. **_I’ll ask him._ **

**great.**

Before he knows what he’s doing, his fingers are typing out: **_i’m sorry for what i said._ **He stands there staring at the screen until his neck gets stiff from looking down so tensely. 

Sighing, he presses the delete button and exits out of the conversation. He needs to do it in person - not be a coward and send a half-assed text. 

He quickly texts Liam and waits when he sees the three dots pop up right away. **Okay,** Liam says, **be there tomorrow at noon.**

Despite himself, tendrils of hope and relief bloom inside him. They’ve most likely got their spirit, now all they have to do is free him. 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

“Harry!” Liam says happily, almost lighting up as Harry gets out of the car and joins them on the driveway. 

Louis huffs, rolling his eyes as Harry and Liam reunite with a hug filled with broad limbs and too much ego in one space. 

“Good to see you, man,” says Harry, dimple popping out as he grins at Liam. It’s not a surprise that this is the first time he’s seen it during their short partnership, yet the knowledge still feels like a knife to the gut. 

He begrudgingly lets Liam hug him too, forced to lean up onto his tiptoes as the other man pats him a bit too roughly on the back. “Okay, that’s enough,” he coughs, pulling back. 

Liam claps his hands together, turning to face the house. “So, you need me to check some rooms for you? What are we looking for?” 

“Death by suicide,” Harry says. 

“And there was also a big fire, so just ignore that,” Louis says. 

The look Liam gives them is nothing short of comical. “Alrighty then,” he says, nodding slowly. “Let’s do it.” 

They lead him to the backyard through the sidegate, sun filtering in through the trees that line the fence from the neighboring yard and casting bright patches of light on the leaf-covered grass. They stop in the middle of the yard, standing in an almost circle. 

“Do you feel anything?” Louis asks, noticing the furrow that’s formed between Liam’s brows. 

“Uh, yeah, it’s -” He breaks off, frowning. “One second, I need to concentrate. There’s a lot of energy hovering here - a lot of _history_ in the air.” 

“Take your time,” Harry says. 

Once again, Louis finds himself singing in his mind as Liam begins walking across the grass, eyes shut and index fingers rubbing his temples. At one point he even squats down by the grass and presses his hands to the dirt, as if the answers are embedded in the soil. And they very well could be, Louis muses. 

Harry seems to be zoning out too but when Louis spares him a glance five minutes later, he sees Harry immediately avert his gaze from him. As in, he had been looking at Louis.

He wonders again how angry Harry still is with him. He hasn’t apologized yet since they haven’t been alone together yet but he is determined to do it before Harry leaves the house. 

But first the spirit. 

“Okay,” Liam says, standing up again. “There was definitely a suicide here. I had to dig deep to find it but I could sense that one occurred in the past century for sure. I could also sense the fire and Jesus Christ, it was a strong one. I can still smell the ash right now.” He wrinkles his nose in emphasis.

“So that’s it then? Our ghost is Alastair Howards,” Harry says. 

Louis recognizes the look of hesitance on Liam’s face before his mouth even opens. “What is it?” he asks warily. 

“It’s just… strange,” Liam says carefully. 

“What is?” Harry asks. 

“Something - something is off here,” Liam says, sounding a bit confused. “I already told you I got a weird aura from this house, Lou, but this is even worse. It’s like - I can sense that all the stuff happened with the fire and the dying but there’s another layer there too. Something I can’t get a read on. It feels like… _molasses_ to my senses. I can tell it’s there but it’s too thick for me to interpret what it means.” 

“That hasn’t ever happened before?” Louis asks, letting out a breath of air. 

Liam shakes his head. “Never,” he confirms, before looking between them. “Everything’s okay, right? This spirit hasn’t… tried to harm you guys or anything, right?” 

“No,” Harry assures him. Louis thinks about the clock and how disarming it had felt. _But it didn’t hurt me,_ he tells himself rationally. He just feels unnerved by it because the phantom itself is such a mystery. 

“Still… that was pretty weird. I’m going to go home and look into it further but, just - be careful,” Liam says, and he’s wearing one of his most serious expressions, effectively communicating the severity of his worries. “I don’t like the feel of this.”

“We will,” Harry says, frowning. 

“Do you want me to read anything inside the house?” Liam asks, gesturing to the screen door. 

“I doubt you’ll find anything because the house was built two years ago but knock yourself out if you want,” Louis says dryly. 

Liam rolls his eyes. “I actually should get back to London as soon as possible. Gigi also needs consultation on her case by tonight so I should get to her quickly.” 

Both he and Harry nod, and the three of them head back to the front yard, thanking Liam for driving all this way for such a short favor. 

Despite his claims about getting back to London as soon as possible, Liam takes his sweet time, chatting to Harry about working out and vegan shakes or whatever the fuck they have in common. Louis just slumps against the garage door and eyes them impatiently. 

Eventually, Liam does wrap it up, approaching Louis to tell him to take care of himself before patting his shoulder and heading to his car. 

Harry starts walking and Louis panics, thinking he’s going to leave before he gets the chance to apologize. “Wait!” he yells, freezing in embarrassment right after. They’re in _public,_ for fuck’s sake.

“What?” Harry asks, looking confused. He turns to face Louis instead of walking away and ignoring him though, so he’ll take it. 

Suddenly losing his courage, he stands there stupidly for a minute without speaking while Harry stares expectantly at him. 

“Well, okay, then,” Harry says, a look of bewilderment in his face. He turns away again and Louis finally gets control over himself. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurts, warmth flooding his cheeks when Harry glances back at him in surprise. “For what I said the other day about… It was wrong of me to bring that up. It’s also not true. I was just worried about Venus and feeling anxious about the case especially because the spirit knocked the clock off the wall and surprised me.” 

Harry is quiet for a second, staring at him with an unreadable expression. “It’s okay,” he says eventually. He clears his throat. “I’m sorry for being harsh on you about your magic.” He furrows his brows, shaking his head once as if clearing his thoughts. “Wait, what happened with Venus?”

Louis grimaces, stomach twisting. “She was gone the day before yesterday when I woke up, and she’s still missing. I’m worried about her.”

“She’s missing?” Harry repeats, surprised. He studies Louis for a second before softening. “I’m sorry. Does she run off often?” 

He shakes his head. “She’s a homebody like me and she doesn’t like to go out for too long… especially in a new place… She’s been acting so strange and skittish all week too. I’m worried about her.” He exhales, feeling a tightening pressure form in his stomach.

The hand that touches his shoulder almost makes him jump. He glances at Harry in surprise. 

“She’ll come back,” he says earnestly. “She’s your familiar which means she’s got a good head on her shoulders.”

Louis holds his gaze before nodding, ducking his head. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I’m just overreacting.” 

“No, you’re not,” Harry says easily. He lets go of Louis’ shoulder then and Louis immediately misses the warmth. He frowns then, as if mulling over something. “The spirit knocked the clock off the wall?” 

“Yeah, sorry, I forgot to tell you,” Louis says, wincing. “I cut my finger cleaning up the mess and that’s what made everything snap.” 

He can see the exact moment Harry switches back into the more stern Harry Styles, angles of his face sharpening as he grimaces. “This is why it’s not a good idea to be staying here alone,” he says stiffly. “We still don’t know what happened to our spirit and if they’re malevolent or not. Who knows what they could have done - what they could have done to hurt _you.”_

“Not this again,” Louis says grumpily. They were getting along so well! “There’s just as likely a chance of that happening when we’re here investigating so unless you want to solve this case without stepping foot inside the house, I think it’s a risk we have to take.” 

“Yeah, but when we’re both here investigating, there’s two of us!” Harry argues. “I wouldn’t let -” He breaks off, looking frustrated. “If we’re both here, the chances of us getting hurt or victim to some unknown revenge plot are much lower.” 

“Maybe that’s a hint for you to start showing up more,” Louis bites. It’s a lame comeback but he’s feeling off his element, still left reeling from how very _wrong_ everything’s gone. 

“God, can’t we go _one_ day without arguing?” Harry complains. 

The fight bleeding out of him in seconds, Louis slumps. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. 

Harry lets out a hoarse laugh. “We’re - we’re better than this, right?” 

“It is a weird situation,” Louis shrugs. “Neither of us expected to be partnered with our ex.”

“But we’re adults. We can handle this civilly without being dicks to each other,” Harry says, sounding suddenly exhausted. 

“You’re right,” Louis agrees, but with much difficulty. “I’m sorry for dumping that glass of water on you a week ago.”

To his surprise, Harry lets out a guffaw, looking just as taken aback right after as Louis feels. “I deserved it,” he admits, clearing his throat.

“Yeah,” Louis agrees, because he did. “Look at us getting along and agreeing on things.”

“Cheers,” Harry drawls, flashing a half smile. “This is how it should be,” he says a moment later. “We have to work together. That’s the only way we can solve this case and help Alastair.” 

Louis nods, knowing Harry’s right. 

“Maybe we can even be friends,” Harry says and Louis stiffens. “What?” 

“I… no offense, Harry,” Louis starts, wincing when Harry immediately hardens again. “I just don’t see how us being friends would work exactly.”

“It’s actually a rather simple concept,” Harry says gruffly, looking annoyed. “We talk to each other like human beings and spend time together.” 

“It’s more complicated than that,” Louis denies, shaking his head. He can see Harry get more and more frustrated and all it does is make him more on edge. “You can’t tell me it’d actually work out easily. There’s too much history.” 

“I disagree,” Harry says, brows dipping into angry lines. His voice is layered in something harsh when he adds, “If anything, that ‘history’ should make it easier for us to be friends. Why is that so difficult?” 

“It’s hard to talk to you,” Louis snaps. “Things are awkward between us so excuse me for being a bit skeptical that we could just erase that tension. We broke up on _bad terms._ This is the first time we’ve seen each other since and you haven’t exactly been _nice._ So no, it’s not that simple. Is that so hard to understand?” 

“No, Louis, what’s hard to understand is why you think you’re a victim here,” Harry says, looking so mad Louis nearly shrinks back. _“You_ broke up with me. _You_ ended it. _You_ made things ‘awkward’ between us. So excuse me for being a little standoffish when it sometimes physically hurts to look at you.” 

Louis is rooted to the spot, shock bubbling up in his stomach as Harry gives him one last cold look before turning and walking away. 

He continues to stand on the driveway, paralyzed in place, even as Harry drives away without looking back. It takes him five minutes to break out of his trance and go back inside, closing the door behind him much harder than he intended. 

His heart, however, remains gaping open. 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

With how things ended between them yesterday, Louis definitely doesn’t expect for Harry to show up at Niall’s doorstep, dressed in black jeans and a white shirt with a bandana tied around his neck. 

But that’s exactly what he finds when he opens the door, still dressed in pajamas with hair sleep-rumpled and bags beneath his eyes. With Venus’ disappearance (she’s still not back and Louis is getting more and more worried - they have a magical connection which would alert him if something was horribly wrong but it’s hard to trust such things when he hasn’t seen his beloved familiar in days) and the disturbances from their ghost, Louis hasn’t been getting the best sleep lately. 

And now seeing Harry look so put together makes him feel off-kilter. “What’re you doing here?” 

“I thought we could work on the case,” Harry shrugs. “I have most of the day free and now that we know who our ghost is, then we can figure out how to get him to pass on.” He tilts his head, raising an eyebrow in a silent question to come in. 

Moving to the side reluctantly, he lets Harry enter the house, feeling weirded out. Harry is talking to him normally, not what he expected after their last clash. 

“Is Venus back yet?” Harry asks, looking around the room for a furry companion. 

Swallowing roughly, Louis shakes his head. “I tried doing a search spell yesterday because I charmed her collar when I first bought it but either I went too long without refreshing the spell or she’s beyond the reach.” 

“I’m sorry,” Harry says and he sounds genuine. It leaves Louis feeling even more confused. 

“Why are you being so nice?” he blurts, slapping a hand over his mouth right after. He really needs to get a hold of himself. It’s not like he _wants_ Harry to be a dick. 

“We called a truce, remember?” Harry says casually, unbothered by Louis’ bluntness. 

Louis opens his mouth and then closes it. “I thought… Never mind,” he mumbles, searching Harry’s face for any remaining hostility and finding none. He seems to have let all of it go.

 _Or,_ he realizes, _we’re pretending none of it happened._ That option becomes more and more likely as Harry continues on into the house, talking all the while. 

“I think we need to learn as much about Alastair if we’re going to be able to convince him to let us help him,” Harry says, popping into Niall’s study and coming back out with a whiteboard in one hand and two markers (red and black) in the other. “Let’s write down everything we know.” 

Nodding, Louis follows Harry to the kitchen table. Together, they write down everything they know. _Howards’ House_ gets written in the middle in bold letters with _28 Thistlewood Lane_ beneath it. Branching off from the main words are _Alastair Howards,_ _fire,_ and _present_ or the three biggest focuses of the case. 

They sketch a basic timeline at the bottom starting from 1898 when the house was built and noting Alastair’s death in 1958 (sixty years ago) and then the fire in 2008 (fifty years after Alastair’s death). Then they add in all the information Louis learned about the fire including the supposed cause and the fact that there were no deaths (or, no potential ghosts). They also make a section for the house today and everything relevant including the master bedroom and backyard being the most poignant hotspots, the mysterious energy Liam sensed, and the signs Niall mentioned with temperature (which Louis has still only experienced once) and the sounds. 

“We’re going to have to find a bigger board,” Harry says, studying the already crammed space. 

“Wait a second,” Louis says, narrowing his eyes as he stares at the timeline. “What about the large gap of time between Alastair’s death and him suddenly haunting this house? Clearly he’s not happy with his current existence but wouldn’t that mean he’d be making a lot of noise for a lot longer?”

“We don’t actually know if he wasn’t haunting it before the house was built,” Harry shrugs. “Was anyone living in that house before it burned down?” 

“It was abandoned before the fire because the article I read mentioned how kids would hang out there in the middle of the night for fun,” Louis says, shaking his head. “But I don’t know anything before that. The book that was tracking old residents stopped with the records in about 1980. That’s twenty-eight years unaccounted for.” 

“We’ll have to figure that out, then,” Harry says, pursing his lips. “And we need to figure out more about Alastair’s life and what led him to his breaking point. That’s the only way we can help him pass on.” 

“Okay, but how do we do that?” Louis asks. “The library has lots of information but it won’t have anything personal like that.” 

“Let’s take advantage of something we haven’t thought of yet,” Harry says, a thoughtful look on his face as he glances at Louis. “Gossiping neighbors.” 

“Gossiping neighbors?” Louis repeats, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, who else would know more about such a taboo topic than people who lived through it or who have family that did,” Harry says, looking more and more determined. 

Louis sighs, knowing Harry is already set on it. “Just let me change my clothes.” 

“Not a requirement. I’m sure the neighbors would love your goat pajamas,” Harry says, completely straight-faced.

“Fuck off,” Louis says, rolling his eyes. But inside, he feels warmth bloom. That was a joke - Harry just joked around with him with no malice in his voice and then Louis retorted with no malice too. They’re _joking around_ now. 

Feeling flustered, he hurries away. 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

Mr. Henderson, an elderly man with a long beard and wary eyes, lives in the house next door. He answered the door and immediately told them that he won’t be buying anything. 

Once Harry assured him that they aren’t here to sell something, he calmed down and introduced himself properly. But when Harry asks him if he knows anything about the house next door, he immediately starts shaking his head. 

“I’m not the person to ask for this. If you want to know anything about the houses or town history, ask Mrs. Sawyers,” he says, pointing over their shoulders. “Down the street. Pink door.” 

“Oh, thank you,” Louis says, repeating the name in his head. He turns to leave, but Harry isn’t finished yet. 

“Have you by any chance seen a black cat anywhere?” he asks and Louis glances at him in surprise. 

“No, I can’t say I have,” Mr. Henderson says, scratching his beard. 

“If you do see one, please let us know,” Harry says, smiling politely. “Have a good day, thank you again.”

Mr. Henderson nods, shutting the door.

They walk back to the pavement and Louis hesitates, but the gratitude blooming inside him is too much to ignore. “Thank you,” he says honestly. “For mentioning Venus. I hadn’t thought of that.” He should have, looking back on it now, but he’s glad Harry thought of it when he didn’t. 

“No problem,” Harry says after a beat. He clears his throat. “See any pink doors?”

Louis points to the house close to the end of the block. “That one.” 

The house itself strongly resembles Niall’s, just as most of the houses on the block match each other (even if Niall’s was built much later), but there’s some key differences. The pink door is one and so are the abundant amount of flowers planted in the front yard and the small stone fountain on the lawn, as well as the Christmas lights curling around the porch columns and around the door and windows. 

Harry uses the pink unicorn-shaped door knocker and raps three times in quick succession. To their surprise, the door flings open only seconds later. 

Mrs. Sawyers is a petite woman who’s probably in her fifties, dressed in pink and white with bright blue eyes and a kind smile. “Well, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two around here before,” she says, adjusting her tortoiseshell cat-eye glasses. 

“Hi, I’m Harry and this is Louis,” Harry begins, switching into full charm mode at the snap of fingers. “We’re from down the street - house 28.” 

“House 28?” she repeats, raising an eyebrow. “I thought that lovely Irishman moved in there a bit ago?” 

“He did. Niall’s just staying with his lady for a little while and he graciously let me and Louis take the house to get away for a bit,” Harry says, smiling charmingly. “We were directed to you by Mr. Henderson next door. He said you’re the one to talk to if we want any information on Tennifield.” 

“Oh, of course! Please, please, come in!” she says, gesturing into the house. “I have some cookies in the oven!” 

They exchange a glance, communicating a nonverbal agreement before Harry lets Louis step inside first. 

Within five seconds, Louis can already maintain that Mrs. Sawyers’ decor can be easily described as very, very pink. Pink wallpaper, pink pillows, pink rugs, placemats, furniture, and more. Louis blinks against the assault, following Harry as their host leads them to the living room. 

“Please sit,” she tells them, taking a seat on the armchair. 

The only other place to sit is a cramped loveseat. Harry sits down first, scooting over to make room for Louis who gingerly sits down next. Even then their shoulders are pressed close, the smell of Harry’s cologne seeping into his nose. 

“I love having guests over,” Mrs. Sawyers says, sighing contentedly. “Do any of you want any drinks?” 

“No, thank you,” Harry says politely, glancing at Louis to wait for his answer. 

He echoes the same gentle refusal, stiffening when Harry shifts, pushing them even closer together. He’s entirely too aware of every point of contact between them, skin burning underneath his jacket wherever Harry’s arm touches his. 

“Excuse me for saying this but you two make such a cute couple,” Mrs. Sawyers says, making both of them tense.

Harry coughs awkwardly. “Thank you.” 

Louis shoots him a surprised look but schools his face right after, confused as to why Harry went with it. He gets his answer a moment later. 

“Uh, Lou and I are actually really into history and paranormal conspiracy stuff,” Harry says lightly, before reaching out to place a big hand on Louis’ shoulder. “We actually met at a seance. Isn’t that neat?”

Mrs. Sawyers practically lights up at that. “Oh wow, that sounds like me and my Mary back in the day! We were a wild pair, I tell you. We were both fools for anything occult or out of the ordinary.” 

Harry and he exchange a quick glance. Mrs. Sawyer had a _Mary._

“I remember back in ‘78, we went to a seance and I talked to my late aunt Elizabeth, bless her,” Mrs. Sawyers continues. “Meeting your partner at a life partner at seance - isn’t that sort of ironic? I love it, though. Good for you two!”

“It was definitely unexpected,” Louis says, deciding he has to speak up at least once. He even forces himself to place a hand over Harry’s one on his shoulder, pressing down and trying to ignore how aware he is of the size difference between their fingers and palms. “But it was fate.”

There’s more truth in those words than he’d like to admit. For months he had seen it that same way, but apparently even fate can be wrong sometimes. 

“So, anyways, Niall told us there was some history about this house and we were interested in hearing more,” Harry says hopefully. 

“Oh, there’s nothing like learning about who was here before you! Especially in a town like ours with such a rich and strong history,” Mrs. Sawyers says, seemingly getting sidetracked. “Have you seen our Tennifield history section at the library? Because it’s -“

“Yes, actually!” Harry steers back to the point hastily. “That’s what made us intrigued in the first place. We found some information and we’d like to know more, specifically from a resident who can give us a different perspective.” He’s clearly trying to segue into it but Louis is getting too impatient.

“What do you know about the old Howards’ house?” he asks, cutting straight to the chase and ignoring Harry’s reproachful gaze. 

He doesn’t think either of them expect Mrs. Sawyers to burst out _laughing_ at them though, but that’s exactly what she does. It’s not just a laugh either, more of a loud cackle that overtakes her entire frail body. 

“Uhh, Mrs. Sawyers?” Harry says cautiously. “Did we say something wrong?” 

“The Howards house, oh my! No one’s talked about it in years,” she exclaims finally, eyes bright. “Then again, this neighborhood has always been filled with a bunch of _chickens!”_ She pauses to cackle again, wheezing a bit with the force of it. 

Louis and Harry exchange wide-eyed looks of confusion, both fearing for the lady’s wellbeing. 

“Would you be comfortable talking to us about it? Louis and I have always been really interested in tales like that,” Harry prompts, smooth as ever. 

“Of course, darlings!” Mrs. Sawyers says, before sighing almost wistfully. “I still remember the day it burned down like it was yesterday!” 

“Burned down?” Harry repeats, brows raising in the perfect initiation of someone surprised by the information and perhaps curious to know more. “Did anyone get hurt?”

“Oh, no, of course not!” Mrs. Sawyers brushes off. “No one had been in there for ages! The officers said it was the old wood. Just caught fire, supposedly.” She scoffs. “That’s what they told us.”

“You think it was something else?” Harry asks, leaning forward and resting his hands on his knees to brace himself. 

Mrs. Sawyers glances around as if they’re not truly alone and she wants to remain discreet. “It just… wouldn’t surprise me if it was something else,” she says empathetically. “Especially with the rumors.”

“What rumors?” Louis asks on cue, innocent as can be. 

“About Alastair Howards,” Mrs. Sawyers says softly, eyes widening for emphasis. 

“We read briefly on him,” Harry offers quickly. “He took his own life, didn’t he?”

“Yes, that’s what’s said,” Mrs. Sawyers nods. “It was shocking though. My mother used to tell me how she and her friends would go visit his farm and see the animals when they were school children. He’d let them pet the horses and feed the cattle and he was always nice to them. He was a good man - served in the army, was kind to everyone he met, helped with repairs with no charge... but bad things happen to even the best people, I’m afraid.”

“What happened?” Harry asks, egging her on. 

Mrs. Sawyers shakes her head. “There were three dry summers in a row and the crops were suffering. Poor Alastair had just gotten married to his wife and was expecting a baby - times were hard for the family. But then…” 

She pauses to take a sip from her glass of water and Louis and Harry wait in anticipation.

“But then I think my mum said it was the summer of ‘55,” Mrs. Sawyers says. “Howards’ farm _flourished._ Everyone was lining up at the market to buy his greens. The town were calling them the ‘miracle crops.’ Things were good for them for a while after that. He was _happy._ But then Shannon went to stay with her parents with the kiddos a few years later and… well, I guess he wasn’t as happy as we all thought.”

“That’s awful,” Louis says honestly, saddened by the story. 

“It was definitely a shock to my dear old mum,” Mrs. Sawyers says woefully. “He hadn’t been around town as much in those last few months - pretty much holed up in the house the entire time. There were… rumors. Whispers that he had been looking into rituals and things of the occult and back then, that was a sin. And as far as my mum knew - he didn’t even have magic! No one expected him to… Well, it’s horrible.” 

“And what happened to the house then?” Harry asks carefully. “Did his wife - Shannon - come back?”

Mrs. Sawyers shakes her head. “She came back to pack her things and the kids’ things before leaving for good. And who can blame her? Poor woman. And poor kids.” She pauses again to finish another row of loops, brows furrowed in concentration. 

They wait patiently until she glances up abruptly. 

“Oh, dear me! What was I saying?” she asks. 

“Shannon and the kids left town,” Harry supplies. Louis can tell it’s taking everything in him to not go into full interrogation mode. While Louis is used to listening and biding his time, Harry is unfailingly restless. It’s such a stark contrast to how peaceful and content he had been in the seance - just more proof that Harry goes into some other state of mind when he’s channeling that nothing and no one can disturb. 

They’re all just different facets of the same enigma of a man and Louis can’t even lie and say he’s still not completely entranced by the effect as he had been in the past. 

“Yes, they did,” Mrs. Sawyers nods. “They ended up selling most of the land too, but kept the house. I think she wanted to save it for the kids but it stayed abandoned for decades. And then it burned down ten years ago and they said it was a bunch of blokes messing around and not tamping out a cigarette but… there were a lot of strange things about that night.”

“How so?” Louis asks. “It must have been scary. Just down the street from you, I don’t even want to imagine how I’d feel.”

“Oh, I would have been terrified,” Mrs. Sawyers nods, “had I not slept through it.”

“You -” Harry breaks off, blinking. “Pardon?”

“Almost the entire neighborhood did,” she continues. “Slept through the smoke and the smell and then the screams when Lucy from the other side of town came walking down the street to meet her boyfriend and saw the flames. I woke up to see the charred remains and have been absolutely befuddled ever since.”

“That is odd,” Louis says. “You know… I was also wondering how the fire didn’t spread to the other houses. I mean - they aren’t super close together but the property burned quickly and I don’t think it’s crazy to think it could have infested the neighbors’ too.” 

Mrs. Sawyers laughs loudly. “Believe me, we all have the same question. I have no idea how it didn’t, in all honesty, but I’m glad for it. And no one got hurt.”

“That is amazing,” Louis agrees. 

A loud ring disrupts the conversation and Mrs. Sawyers gets up on wobbling legs. “My cookies are done! Please try some!” 

“Oh, we wouldn’t want to intrude,” Louis protests, standing up along with Harry. “We have to go eat lunch soon anyways.”

“If you’re looking for a good lunch, go to Melly’s. Say you’re friends of Josie too,” Mrs. Sawyers tells them kindly. “They’ll get you a discount on the soups and sandwiches.”

“That’s so nice of you, Mrs. Sawyers, thank you,” Harry says genuinely, flattening his hands together and giving her that look that makes girls and boys swoon, no matter the age. 

Sure enough, Mrs. Sawyers just brushes him off shyly. “Anything for such sweet lovebirds like you,” she says. “But come on! I still have cookies and I could use a few taste testers.”

They exchange another glance. 

“Well, if you insist,” Louis says, smiling when Mrs. Sawyers cackles again. 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

When they finally say goodbye to a disappointed Mrs. Sawyers (after telling her about Venus’ disappearance and having her promise to spread the word), they mutually decide to take advantage of her offered discount and head to Melly’s Diner.

The small but bustling establishment looks like something out of the 80’s, complete with bold pastel colors, questionable stains on the booth seats, and an ancient jukebox in the corner.

Louis watches as Harry goes up to it, inserting the proper change before hitting a button. A few seconds later, the opening chords to _Landslide_ play through the room and he smiles despite himself. 

Harry settles back in his seat across from him. It hits Louis when the waitress arrives to take their order that this feels an awful lot like a date. 

That feeling only grows worse when they begin looking at the menu and Harry immediately points out, “There’s a wrap section on page four,” remembering one of the staple lunch foods Louis has liked since always.

“I’ll probably get one of those,” he says reluctantly, ignoring Harry’s smug look. It feels like there’s a steady peace between them now. Louis doesn’t know how long it’ll last but he can’t say he’s too upset about it. 

They’re pretty silent as they wait for their food. Louis made a note on his phone of everything they learned from Mrs. Sawyers and tells Harry that he’ll add it to the board later today. Still, the quiet is far from oppressive so Louis relaxes, basking in it as Harry taps his fingers against the table distractedly. 

He doesn’t expect Harry to break the silence, but he does, fixing Louis with an intense expression. “So how’ve you been these past two years?”

Taken off guard, he stutters for a coherent response. “Good, yeah, uh… good,” he says, internally cringing. 

“That’s… good,” Harry says, looking much too amused. 

“What about you?” Louis asks after a beat, willing the flush forming on his cheeks to fade away. 

Harry shrugs. “I’ve been good too. Busy. With cases and stuff. I moved into a new flat about six months ago too but I’ve still got to do some renovating there.” 

“A new flat?” Louis blurts, surprised. Harry had loved his old flat - and so had Louis at one point. It was spacious but homey, with a lovely view of the city and a bright and warm atmosphere that made Louis feel safe and content every time he stepped inside. 

Shrugging again, Harry actually looks a bit sheepish. “It just didn’t feel right anymore,” he murmurs. “Too… big.” 

Louis stares at him, a peculiar emotion swelling in his stomach. “Oh, um…”

“The new flat’s closer to work too, so,” Harry adds hastily. “And it’s by a bunch of great cafes and the gym.” 

“More convenient,” Louis nods. That was a better explanation. 

“What about you? Still living in the same shitty flat?” Harry asks, lips twitching on his face showing that he’s just joking. 

He rolls his eyes all the same. _“Yes,_ and it’s not shitty. It’s got _character,”_ he maintains, before frowning unhappily. “Don’t think my landlord is too happy with the hole in the wall though - even if I fixed it. He already yelled at me though, so...” 

Half expecting Harry to make another jab at him, he’s surprised when he says, “I’m sorry. That sucks.” 

“Yeah,” he says belatedly, before shrugging. “It’s whatever.” 

Before Harry can say anything else, the waitress returns with a complimentary bowl of chips along with the milkshakes they both ordered. They both reach for one at the same time, fingers brushing and sparking. Louis retracts his hand panickedly, relieved when Harry doesn’t notice. 

“I was wondering,” Harry starts, sounding curious. “How’d you get into the business, anyway?” 

“Oh,” Louis breathes, feeling an unexpected rush of nostalgia pass over him as he thinks back to last May with fondness. “I met Zayn at Serafina’s, actually,” he says. Serafina’s is London’s best potion ingredient shop and Louis goes to restock and catch up with Serafina herself at least once a month. “I was buying some more mandrake roots and bat drool and he was struggling to find Salamander feet for Gigi - his girlfriend. I helped him out and we got to talking. I thought he was a witch too at first but then he told me he was a medium and that he was a paranormal investigator. Obviously, I already had background on what that was thanks to, um, _you,_ so we kept talking and later became friends.” 

He pauses, swirling the straw in his milkshake idly. “I realized I was interested in the business after helping Zayn solve his case that was driving him crazy. He offered to introduce me to the rest of his team and the rest fell into place after that.” 

It feels so strange thinking about how it’s only been a year. Louis had been lost for so long on what he wanted as a career, drifting through life as some sort of ghost who was waiting to cross over and find a purpose. And Zayn, while actually a medium, was the one who helped him find that passion. He helped Louis pass over like he helps actual spirits pass over all the time - so did Gigi and Liam, Louis will forever be grateful. 

“That’s cool,” Harry murmurs after a moment. “I’m glad you found something.” 

Louis smiles at him, relieved by the genuinity in Harry’s voice. “No insults about my abilities as a proper investigator?” 

Harry falters at that, mouth dropping open. “No, of course not! Why would you -” He pauses, looking guilty. “Because _I_ already gave you that impression, didn’t I?” he finishes, wincing. 

“Yeah, pretty much,” Louis says, not bothering to hide the resentment in his tone. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, frowning. “I never - I already know you’re great at what you do. I’ve seen it firsthand. I shouldn’t have ever said anything.” 

“I appreciate that,” Louis says, feeling some of the tension sticking to his body ease until he finally, finally relaxes completely. 

Right on time, their food arrives. Their conversation dwindles in favor of focusing on eating - not that Louis is complaining. It’s _delicious._

At one point, Louis goes up to the jukebox to request _Rhiannon_ and bumps into their waitress. She glances at the song choice and nods. “You and your boyfriend are fans of Fleetwood Mac?”

Louis sputters. “Uh, no… I mean - we _are,_ but we’re not -” He breaks off, blushing. “Um, yes?” Through his stuttering, Louis had realized that if what they say about small towns is true, he better keep up the lie Harry told Mrs. Sawyers about them dating.

The girl nods, giving him a weird look before heading to the nearest table. 

Letting out a heavy breath, Louis curses himself for being so awkward. That was the _second_ time today that someone’s thought he and Harry were together with barely any context. How could that be? It’s not like they’re walking around while holding hands or making out in their booth or anything. They’re literally just eating lunch together, and hardly having a conversation.

He feels jittery when he returns to the table, stiffening when Harry grins at him. It takes him a second to figure out it’s directed to the song Louis chose and not Louis himself. 

They continue eating in mostly silence until Louis is finished with his food and almost done with his milkshake. Then once again, Harry surprises him by breaking it. 

“Can I ask you something blunt?” he says, glancing at Louis cautiously. There’s a curl hanging over his forehead that Louis has the strongest urge to brush away. He tamps it down. 

Raising an expectant eyebrow, he says amusedly, “As if you wouldn’t say it either way.” 

Harry rolls his eyes, before clearing his throat. “How come you still don’t have your witchmark?” 

The words take a second to register, but when they do, Louis bristles, all understanding that took so long to form burning away into ashes. How could he forget that any peace between them would only ever be fleeting? “It’s not exactly like I have any control over that,” he says stiffly, offended. 

“You do, though,” Harry says, raising a brow. “Only you can learn how to gain complete control over your powers.” 

“Wow, astute observation, truly,” Louis says bitterly. “I’ll just learn how to do that - easy peasy. Thank you so much for the brilliant advice. Never heard anything like it before.” 

“You don’t have to be snarky about it,” Harry says, a flicker of annoyance flashing over his face as well. It’s honestly sad how fast things deteriorate between them. Especially when there was a time when Louis thought that the steady fire between them could burn forever. 

“Then _you_ stop being an asshole,” he bites back, slumping in his seat. “You think I chose to be markless at twenty-four years old? I can’t just ‘get’ my witchmark when I want to, Harry.”

“God, you don't even really need a witchmark to be a witch but you’ve always been so bent on it. That’s why it surprises me so much that you stopped trying,” Harry says, brows raising. “You _gave_ up - don’t deny it, you did. If you truly want to get it, you can’t just sit around and wait for it to happen. You’ve got to keep trying.” 

“It’s not that simple,” Louis denies, taken aback by the conviction in Harry’s eyes, bright green boring into blue. 

“Isn’t it?” Harry says. “If you want something, you have to work to get it. That’s the only way it works.” His next words come out muttered, “But then again, we both know you never know what you want.” 

There’s a familiar layer of bitterness there and it grates at Louis’ insides, making him stiffen. A flash of indignation and anger burns through him as a reaction. “You know nothing,” he says sharply. “You truly don’t know _anything._ So stop pretending like you do.” 

He stands up right as Harry does, both of them glaring at each other. 

“Would you guys like anything else?” asks the waitress who hurries over at the sign of conflict. She looks between them in barely concealed alarm, before paling. “Uh, mate, you’re -” She trails off and that’s when Louis realizes she’s talking to him. 

“Shit,” Harry mutters, while immediately coming around the table and shoving past the poor lady to get to Louis who realizes he’s shaking again. 

Harry’s hands land on the sides of his face again, immediately slowing the frisson of heat spreading across Louis’ body. 

Louis exhales, trying to regain his bearings as he digs his fingers into Harry’s biceps, unconsciously leaning into him for comfort. 

“Are you alright?” a female voice asks and Louis opens his eyes, not realizing he closed them. He blinks at the worried face of the waitress before scanning the room and its other inhabitants - all of whom are staring at them in shock. 

Fuck. 

“Can we get the check please?” Harry asks awkwardly.

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

After Harry drops him back off at the house without another word, Louis drowns his embarrassment and frustration with a tub of ice cream he conjures from Zayn and Gigi’s freezer (what they don’t know, won’t hurt them). 

The more he thinks of the disaster at the diner and the fact that the news has probably spread all across town by now, the more he shovels Mint Chip Chocolate into his mouth like it’s liquid gold. 

He gathers himself later that afternoon for a FaceTime check-in with Niall, updating him on their progress. Even though they’re still not anywhere near expelling the ghost from the land, Niall doesn’t seem bothered by it. Actually, he spends about ten minutes telling some random story about him and his mates going golfing the other week and Louis nods and ‘ahs’ through the entire thing even though he’s extremely confused, and then tells Louis they’ll ‘catch up later’ because he has to get his chicken out of the oven. 

Bewildered by the conversation, but admittedly feeling cheered up, Louis finds their whiteboard and expands it with a growth spell (he may squeeze his eyes shut after saying the incantation out of fear, but thankfully no one is there to witness it) so he can copy down the newer information. 

It seems more and more certain that their ghost is Alastair Howards but there’s still something tickling at Louis’ mind, telling him there’s more to be dug into - more gaps that need to be filled and more secrets to be uncovered. 

Whatever it is, he has faith that they’ll figure it out. He just hopes that he and Harry can survive working together until then. 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

“He _what?”_ Louis exclaims, nearly dropping the bowl of brownie batter he spent the better part of the hour making thanks to Gigi keeping him distracted. 

“The bastard said he bet she looked gorgeous when she was alive,” she repeats, sounding close to tears. “He flirted with a spirit!” 

Choking back a laugh, Louis starts pouring the batter into the baking pan, already excited to lick up the remnants when he finishes. “What did Zayn say?” 

“He was stunned silent,” Gigi says, struggling for breath. “And I was sitting there trying not to laugh. Ended up almost biting through my tongue, Jesus Christ.” 

“What happened after that?” Louis asks, grinning. 

“He _kept going,”_ Gigi hisses. 

“No!”

“Yes!” Gigi shrieks into the phone. “He asked her if she ever felt lonely and said he’d be happy to keep her company!” 

Louis gags. “Wait, what did she say?” 

“She didn’t respond,” Gigi cackles. “She literally answered every question Zayn asked her but when that dick started talking, she ghosted!” 

“Oh my god,” Louis says, placing the now empty bowl on the counter. He balances the phone by holding it to his shoulder with his head and takes hold of the tray. After getting it into the oven, he grabs hold of it again. “How long did this go on? Was Zayn disgusted? I bet he was disgusted.” 

“He was sickened,” Gigi agrees, sounding far too amused at the information. “He eventually had to ask the man to wrap it up because it was getting so uncomfortable. And I was still trying not to laugh-”

“God, what even compels a person to do that? And in the middle of a fucking _seance,”_ Louis wonders, turning the knob to set a timer for twenty minutes. 

“I dunno but apparently the bloke was acting weird about her ever since Zayn figured out who she was the ghost of and he realized she was hot. Feel kind of bad now - he’s probably going to be haunting her and not the other way around now.” 

“On the bright side, she can always pass on and escape him,” Louis says, before wincing. “Gosh, so you guys have been having a blast, I take it.” 

“Babe, this is the best case I’ve worked on in _months,”_ Gigi giggles. “How about you - how’s it going?” 

He sighs, leaning back against the counter. “It’s going.” 

She hums sympathetically. “You guys know who it is now, though, right?” 

“Yeah,” he says slowly, but it comes out unsure. “I dunno, love, there’s something off about this whole thing. I’m sure Liam told you about the weird aura thingy already but there’s something -” Right as he goes to say it, the sound of something shattering tears through the house and paralyzes him to the spot. 

“Lou? What were you saying?” Gigi sounds confused and a tad concerned when he doesn’t answer immediately. “Lou?”

Swallowing roughly, Louis grips the edge of the counter for dear life, ears ringing. “Um, I’ll call you back, Gigi. Something just - I’ll call you back.” He hangs up before she can protest, feet already moving. 

A deep wariness settles in his bones as he tracks the sound of crash upstairs to the master bedroom. He switches on the light and immediately gasps. 

The full-body mirror that had been bolted to the wall across from Niall’s bed is in pieces, broken shards of glass glittering on the floorboards and glinting dangerously. Worse, he feels the air suddenly run cold, a tremor wracking his body as goosebumps prickle his skin. 

Feeling sick, Louis stumbles back until his back hits the wall, breathing out shakily. “Shit,” he mumbles. “Shit!” 

Fingers trembling, he fumbles for his phone again and pulls up Harry’s contact.

**_ghost broke the mirror in the master bedroom._ **

He can’t stop glancing at the mess as he types, a lump clogging his throat as he presses send. The mirror frame is all that’s left intact, all the glass laying on the floor, shattered beyond repair. 

His phone buzzes immediately and he checks the message, thrown off at what it says. He expected Harry to make a comment about another broken piece of furniture but instead, he’s asked: **are you okay**

There’s no question mark in it either - which means Harry sent it in a rush. 

**_yeah just taken off guard_ **he tells him. It’s not fully a lie. He realizes he’s still shaking and the fear that he could have another panic attack and make things much worse with his magic has him sinking to the floor. 

A loud ring disrupts his thoughts. Harry’s contact pops up on the screen. He’s calling Louis. Fingers quivering, he struggles to hit the accept button but succeeds after a moment. 

“Hello?” he rasps. 

“Take a deep breath.” Harry’s voice registers, hushed like he’s somewhere public and wants to remain discreet but still wants Louis to hear him. 

Louis listens, pressing the phone to his ear as he inhales deeply. 

“I’m going to count, okay? Breathe with me,” Harry instructs. “One, two, three, exhale. One two three. Inhale.” He continues the steady pace until Louis’ breathing finally evens out. A few stray tears have fallen down his cheeks as he hugs his knees to his chest. 

“Are you okay, Lou?” Harry asks gently. “Still shaking?” 

He looks down at his body. He’s not shaking but he’s definitely shaken up. “I’m fine,” he breathes. “Thank you.” Hesitating for a second, he adds, “How’d you know I was panicking?” 

“Reading between the lines,” Harry murmurs, though it sounds a bit more like _because I know you._ “Ghost still there?” 

“Nope, just came to scare the shit out of me before disappearing again,” Louis huffs. “Sorry for bothering you.” 

“Hey, no, don’t say that,” Harry says firmly, and Louis can practically hear the frown in his voice. “You can call me any time, Louis. I mean it.” 

When Louis doesn’t reply, he adds, “I know things are rocky between us, but I promise you can call me when you get anxious and I’ll always pick up. Okay?” 

“Thank you,” Louis says wetly. He takes another deep breath. “You can get back to whatever you’re doing right now.” Probably working on another case - “I’m fine, really.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come over?” Harry asks. “To see if Alastair’s more open to communication since he seems to have given up on being discreet,” he tacks on belatedly. 

“No, it’s fine,” Louis assures him. “Seriously, Harry. You can come by at the normal time tomorrow.” 

“Okay,” Harry says, sounding reluctant. 

“Bye, Harry,” Louis says pointedly. “Thank you again.” 

“Bye, Louis,” Harry relents. 

Louis hangs up and tips his head back against the wall, taking another deep breath. His phone dings with another message and he glances at it, confused. 

**I’ll be there at 6.**

He huffs out a startled laugh, shaking his head. After noting the current time of two minutes till five, he sends back a **_sounds good._ **He slides his phone back into his pocket and carefully gets up. He definitely knows better than to try and fix the mirror in his current agitated state, so instead he gets as far away from it as possible, hating how harsh the shattered glass looks to his gaze. 

When he gets downstairs, he looks around carefully. 

Light is filtering in through the windows to the point where the living room seems oddly threatening under the dim rays of early evening sun. He bites his lip, deciding that he needs to distract himself. He figures that if Harry’s coming over at six, he can maybe cook them an early dinner - a ‘thank you’ dinner.

After rummaging through Niall’s cabinets, he finds a book of recipes and flips through it until picking a basic stir fry. He conjures the missing ingredients from his fridge back at his flat and then sets everything up. 

He puts on some Fleetwood Mac too, trying not to think about the diner incident and instead wishing Venus was here because she always purrs happily when Rumors is playing. But she’s not here and Louis feels stiff and weary as he chops vegetables. There’s a heady weight of apprehension in the room, curling at his insides and making him feel on edge as he moves around the kitchen. 

When the oven dings with his finished brownies, he jolts and hits his hip against the counter. Wincing, he takes the tray out and sets it aside on the counter to cool off. 

By the time he’s finally using the stove, his heart is pounding. He keeps hearing little thumps and thuds, growing in frequency and volume with every passing minute. Their ghost is growing bolder and bolder. He gets the finished dish into a serving bowl, placing a lid over it to trap as much heat as possible. A glance at the clock tells him he’s got thirty minutes till Harry will be over which has him deciding he needs some fresh air. 

The back door hinges are rusty as always, requiring a hard push when he slides it open and steps out into the yard. The sun is setting in the sky, swirls of red and orange going back as far as he can see. It’s pretty so Louis focuses on it for a minute, shivering as the breeze ruffles at his thin shirt. He maybe should have grabbed a jacket, but it doesn’t matter anyway. He’s only staying out here for a few minutes. 

A loud thud has him stiffening, goosebumps prickling on his skin as he turns slightly and peers deeper into the yard. The swing is creaking, rocking back and forth with the breeze almost ominously. Another deep breath. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to go out here where the strange aura was instead of the front yard. _There’s no one here,_ he tells himself. 

Like a taunt from the universe, the ground beneath him suddenly starts rumbling - shifting and shaking beneath his feet - and his blood runs cold. He scrambles back, shoulders bumping into the glass, fingers grappling at the brick, and door handle jamming into his spine as he watches the patio break apart with wide eyes. 

His heart is thundering in his ears, body frozen against the door as the wood cracks and splinters and _morphs_ until there’s a big gaping hole in the deck. And then it just… stops. 

The ground stops shaking and the wood stops fracturing and Louis is still stuck, staring at the opening in the floor as the breeze picks up and the swing keeps swaying. In the distance, a car alarm blares loudly. 

It takes a minute for him to pry his fingers away from the brick and take a step closer. His brain rings with warning signs as he takes another, straining forward in an effort to see into the hole. It’s definitely a terrible idea, he’s thinking, but something is pulling him forward as he takes step after step, stopping just at the edge of the hole. 

He sucks in a breath. The energy pulsing down below is undeniable even without a detector and he can feel it thrumming around him, deep in his bones, curling around his consciousness and tugging him closer. He lowers to a crouch, blinking into the darkness and waiting for his eyes to adjust. 

The hole is big enough for him to fit into, definitely, but he has no idea how far the fall is. He thinks he can see the barest hints of a ground but he doesn’t want to miscalculate the drop and fall to his death. Biting his lip, he channels his focus and conjures a ladder.

A wooden ladder from his family’s house back in Doncaster appears in place, a solid thud telling Louis that it reached ground. Still hesitant, he tests the sturdiness of the contraption. It’s surprisingly firm considering he’s still shaking and his mind is whirling with curiosity and muted fear. 

Holes don’t just appear out of nowhere. Or, not holes - _doorways._ Because that’s what this is. A doorway. To what, Louis doesn’t know. It could be a portal, transporting him to the spirit world or to another dimension or any other extremely dangerous possibility. He processes the fact that this is unbelievably stupid and risky, yet he still carefully manuvers himself until he’s sitting with his feet dangling over the edge. His lower legs are submerged in some sort of cold air, making him shiver as he reaches for the ladder, fingers curling around the side tightly. 

His mind seems to slow with the feeling too, all panic and fear as well as logic and rationality fading into an echo that he ignores. 

Three minutes. He’ll go down for three minutes. He even pulls out his phone to set a timer, placing it on the floor next to the hole so he doesn’t lose it down below. With another deep breath, his other hand attaches to the opposite side of the ladder. 

“I’m not afraid of ghosts,” he whispers, and then he tightens his grip on the wood and places his first foot on a rung. He starts climbing. 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

Louis stands completely still. One hand is still on the ladder just in case, grip tight and tense as he waits for his vision to adjust. 

He’s not in another world, he’s pretty sure, but he’s definitely in some sort of underground pocket in their own dimension. He can tell because he still feels the same. If he were in the spirit world or another dimension, he’d be struggling to adapt to the new conditions but right now he’s fine. He’s breathing in oxygen and blood is pumping through his veins and the air feels cold but it feels normal. 

But it’s not fully normal. He knows because while the energy is mainly the same, Louis can feel the wisps of something _different_ creeping around his surroundings. Something thick and heavy. It seeps into his skin first, setting off the first wave of alarm. 

Regret and the first dash of fear bubble up inside him and he takes a step back. Maybe he should go back up now. 

There’s nothing to see anyway. He’s immersed in darkness, the rough texture of wood the only thing grounding him as the thick and heavy permeates around him. There’s no tangible energy to pick up on with his natural witch senses either, just murky darkness. It’s sinking into him, coursing sluggishly through his veins and clawing up his throat. 

Then. 

A sharp burst of energy sparks somewhere next to him. Louis fumbles to take hold of it but the darkness is closing up on him. _No,_ he thinks, gritting his teeth and channeling his powers to catch the flicker that is slowly dwindling. 

He needs it. He needs that spark. It might be their only chance - the deep aching for it swells in his lungs. His temples start throbbing as he reaches for the remaining glimmer. It’s quickly fading away but he latches onto it and waits for the familiar feeling to overtake him as he finally meets the spirit they’ve been searching for. 

It takes a second but then the telltale tremor runs down his spine and he exhales. His relief is short lived, however, because as the spirit begins taking form, the air goes frigid and he suddenly feels faint. 

The realization registers slowly and then he’s choking, knees buckling as the spirit leeches his strength. Panic tears through his body like a storm. He made a very big mistake coming down here alone and with no weapons. 

He fights against the feeling, gasping for breath as the spirit steals the air from his very lungs. Some things have become excruciatingly clear: this ghost - Alastair Howards or someone else - is powerful. 

And more importantly, they’re _furious._

Louis casts a protection spell but it vanishes in seconds as he doubles over in pain. His heart is being squeezed, eyes rolling back in his head and lungs contracting as he fights for control. 

_Ladder,_ he thinks. There’s a very good chance that this spirit is tethered to this pocket and can’t leave. It’s stuck here and can’t get out. 

No, but that’s not entirely true, he thinks. The spirit can’t get out _yet._ But if he drains Louis of his soul and energy, then he will be able to - _fuck._ He needs to get out. 

He fumbles for the ladder but his hands grasp at empty air. Gone, it’s gone. He cries out, keeling over as the pain gets stronger. He’s on his knees now, trembling as the spirit gains power in front of him. 

It’s a whirling cluster of energy, pulsing and breathing and looming over him like he’s the prey it’s going to devour. Louis can’t hear anything but the roar of his own blood as he channels his last bit of strength into magic and uses it like a whip, curling it around the spirit and yanking it taut. 

Everything stops and Louis’ lungs open again right as a familiar green light flashes through the dark, cutting through the remnants of charred energy and banishing all traces of the spirit back into its pocket. He almost weeps when an equally familiar voice rings through the air. “Oh my god, Louis.”

“Harry,” he slurs, sapped of all his energy and coherency. Harry’s here which means almost an hour has passed. It had only felt like five minutes. He’s shaking, lingering fear and nausea churning in his stomach as he realizes he almost died. 

“Don’t try to speak,” Harry says, unbridled panic in his voice. The ladder is back again, just inches from Louis’ ankle. It quivers as Harry starts climbing down, too rickety to support his broader frame. 

Louis opens his mouth to tell him to be careful, but ends up hissing as pain flares in his ribs, searing through his stomach. His eyes flutter shut as he grits his teeth. 

“No, don’t move,” Harry says when Louis tries to turn over onto the side that isn’t hurting. He sounds closer but not close enough. “I’m here. I’m right here. You’re safe now.” 

Safe. Is he? 

He opens his eyes again, trying to look up at Harry but even that small movement is too much and he slumps with a strangled cry. The buzzing in his ears is deafening, almost drowning out the sound of his own voice as he croaks, “Our ghost… isn’t a Casper.” 

And then he passes out. 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

Louis opens his eyes, blinking at the harsh light of the sun. 

A cool breeze runs over him and he shivers with a memory he can’t quite pinpoint. It’s prickling at his mind, somewhere out of reach. His frown disappears as he realizes he’s sitting in a field of sunflowers. 

It takes him only a second to realize he’s dreaming. Still, it feels achingly real as his hand is grabbed gently, fingers locking in with a familiar hand. He closes his eyes, exhaling shakily. 

“Isn’t it pretty, Lou?” 

“You’re not real,” he murmurs, eyes welling with tears but remaining shut. 

His hand is tugged up and then lips are pressed to the back of it and then to every one of his knuckles. His heart contracts painfully. 

“Not prettier than you though,” Harry continues and Louis wants to sob. He lets Harry wrap an arm around his waist. It feels so real but it’s not - 

This isn’t real because Harry is no longer his and he’s no longer Harry’s and it’s been that way for a while now. The knowledge cuts through him like a knife. _This isn’t real._

It’s not it’s not it’s not. 

“No one’s prettier than you,” Harry murmurs. He squeezes Louis closer. “Why are you hiding, darling? Let me see my favorite shade of blue.”

“I can’t,” Louis whispers. If he opens his eyes - it’ll all fade away. He knows it. 

“You can,” Harry whispers back, hand coming up to cradle the side of his face. “Open your eyes, baby.” 

He opens them. 

Harry is gone. He’s no longer in the field of flowers and he chokes back a scream when he realizes he’s back in the darkness. 

“No, no, no,” he says, shrinking in on himself. “Let me out.” 

The outline of a figure appears in the distance and at first Louis thinks it’s Harry again but it comes closer and his revulsion grows. The shoulders aren’t broad enough. The gait of their steps - heavy and stiff - is unrecognizable and almost sinister. They come closer and Louis stumbles back, panic bubbling up. 

_Wake up,_ he thinks. He needs to wake up. 

Shadows twist and pull in his vision, dragging the stranger closer and stretching them taller and taller until they’re looming. Louis swallows, squeezing his eyes shut and willing himself to wake up. 

He opens his eyes and wakes up.

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

“Louis? Louis, darling, wake up,” says a voice. 

The throbbing in his ribs is dull but steady and he breathes out a pained sigh, eyes shut. 

Someone winces. “The healing potion is taking a bit to kick in, sorry about that,” the voice says, familiar. 

“Hey, Lilah,” he slurs, eyes fluttering open to look at the witch. Delilah Nelson, possessor of a potions affinity and a knack specifically for healing potions. She’s a good friend of Harry’s and once, a friend of Louis’. 

She smiles softly at him, dressed in all black except for the purple jewel on her choker, matching the purple witchmark curling up the smooth brown skin of her exposed right forearm. They’re glowing like they always do when she’s used magic. 

He thinks absently of the colorless outline on his calf and wonders if he’ll ever get to see what color they glow when activated. 

“What happened?” he rasps, voice scratchy. His limbs feel leaden and stiff, head craning to the side where Lilah takes a seat on a stool next to a bed. It’s now he realizes that he’s no longer at Niall’s, resting in what seems to be another guest room, bare of everything but the essentials. 

The purple drapes and sheets and the lingering smell of herbs and incense tell him it’s a very good chance he’s in Lilah’s guestroom. 

Grimacing, Lilah glances at the door anxiously. “You passed out and Harry tried to wake you up but then your heart stopped beating-”

 _“What!”_ he interrupts, mouth dropping open. 

She nods, blanching at the memory. “God, Louis, you were so pale when Harry portalled you here. He tried to use his powers on you by manipulating your energy to try and wake you up but it was like you’d been drained of all of it. Nothing was working.” 

“How did you wake me up?” he asks, voice lowering to a murmur as his stomach churns. His heart _stopped beating._

“Once I figured out what was happening, all I had to do is brew something up really quick,” she says slowly, but Louis can tell that there’s a hidden layer to her words. 

“And what exactly happened?” he asks, wariness growing. His ribs pang as he scoots up in the bed, ignoring Lilah’s protests. “Tell me.”

“Don’t freak out,” she says carefully. 

“Well, gee, that’s reassuring,” he says, sucking in a breath. He watches Lilah glance at the door again. “Is Harry outside?” he blurts before he can think better of it. 

The way she described it made it seem like Harry was beside himself with worry but he’s nowhere to be seen. He tries not to feel hurt about it. 

As if reading his mind, Lilah gives him a knowing look. “I sent him away because he was hovering.”

Louis ducks his head, trying not to sound eager when he asks, “Hovering?” 

“The bastard was holding your face and telling you to wake up over and over. He wouldn’t let go until I told him you were going to die if he didn’t let me see what was wrong,” she explains, shrugging. “I told him to get my kit from downstairs and then locked the door behind him.” 

A startled laugh works its way up his throat even though he didn’t find it particularly funny. _You were going to die._ “Does he realize I’m awake?”

“I sent him a text. It all depends on how long it takes for him to stop panicking and check his phone,” she says.

“You’re cruel,” Louis says, shaking his head. 

“His fault for yelling at me earlier,” she scowls, reaching over to the nightstand where she’s set up a temporary brewing station and grabbing a half-empty glass. She pushes it to Louis, directing him to drink. 

“Still,” Louis mumbles, taking a sip and wincing at the bitter taste. He can’t help but imagine what it’d be like if he was the one out there while Harry was close to death in this bed. He shudders. “Let him in, Lilah.”

She nods, looking somewhat apologetic as she gets up and heads to the door. 

Harry is barging in before she can even open it properly. “Is he okay? Del, please tell me he’s-” He stops short when he sees Louis, sitting up in bed and perfectly alive, and then steps back and exhales. For a second they just stare at each other. 

“He’s fine,” Lilah says belatedly. 

“I fucking hate you,” Harry grits, snapping out of his daze and immediately walking closer. He seems to hesitate when he reaches the bed, eyes raking over Louis’ figure as if trying to catalogue any pain or discomfort. Finally, he takes a seat at the edge of the mattress, posture stilted. 

Louis is unable to speak or reassure him, frozen in place as he notices the wetness under Harry’s eyes and the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows thickly. 

“What happened to him?” he asks quietly, turning back to Lilah. 

She sighs, sitting back down in her stool. “The spirit leeched a lot of his strength,” she starts, “but it also drained a lot of his magic energy.”

“But he’s okay, right,” Harry says. “He can get energy back - he’s still alive.” He glances at Louis like he needs to make sure. 

“He’s fine physically, yes, but that’s not how it works,” says Lilah, lips rolling together as if she’s trying to figure out how to explain it. “This spirit - it’s not a ghost.” 

Silence. 

“Pardon?” Harry says after a moment.

“It’s a spirit but not a ghost,” Lilah repeats. “As in, it's not someone dead. This spirit is very much alive and breathing.”

“It’s not a ghost,” Harry echoes, stunned. Louis is unable to respond, heart pounding as Lilah’s implications settle. 

“It’s a demon, isn’t it,” he blurts. It doesn’t come out like a question because he already knows. The powerful aura, the sinister presence he felt down there that didn’t seem to stem from vengeance or a memory of a person, its ability to evade detection and the failure with the seance. The way it’s been slowly trying to lure Louis in from the moment he arrived at the house. 

Lilah grimances, then nods. “A trapped demon, yes.”

“A _demon?”_ Harry repeats. He stares at Lilah wide-eyed, face paling. “What the fuck? Why is there a demon in our world?”

“It’s not technically in our world,” Louis says quietly, the pieces of information fitting together like a puzzle. Suddenly, it all seems to make sense. “It’s a demon that’s imprisoned in a pocket of our dimension and it’s trying to get out.” 

“And the only way it can get out is if it trades places with someone,” Lilah says slowly. 

It clicks. “Lilah, please don’t tell me I’ve been possessed,” he says shakily. 

“No, you’re not possessed,” Lilah says hurriedly while Harry whirls around and stares at him, looking stricken. “But you have been imprinted on, Lou, and that’s not good.”

“Imprinted,” he repeats, voice weak. “What does that mean?”

“It means he’s got a hold on you now,” she says grimly. “Not only that, he’s _basically_ infected you. Part of his spirit is in your blood and it’s only going to spread. Soon you’ll be tethered to the grounds like he is.” 

Louis blanches, goosebumps prickling up his arms. Part of a demon’s spirit is coursing through his blood… He never should have gone down there. 

“How do we get rid of the imprint?” Harry asks anxiously. 

“I don’t know,” Lilah admits quietly. 

“Oh,” Harry says. Louis just tries not to throw up.

“I do know that it’s dangerous for Louis to be so far from the tether spot,” she continues. “It’s probably why he’s so faint right now. He needs to get back to the house.”

“Back to the house?” Harry repeats, in disbelief. “Where the demon that has its sights set on him resides?”

“You have no other choice,” Lilah says firmly. “Right now, that house - or the land it sits on - is tied to his life source and he’ll _die_ if he’s away from it too long. Do you understand?” 

“I don’t like this,” Harry says, irritation coating his voice.

Louis resists the urge to roll his eyes. “And I’m having the time of my life here,” he says flatly. On the bright side, the pain in his ribs has finally faded away and he can now breathe without gritting his teeth. 

“I’m sorry, H. I’m not an expert on exorcisms,” Lilah says, frowning. “And there’s not many people that are. Demons are - well, they’re uncharted territory for all of us.” 

“How did it even get here?” Harry asks. 

“Alastair Howards,” Louis says faintly, another piece of the puzzle locking in. “He summoned a demon and they must have made a deal.”

“The miracle crops,” Harry murmurs, catching on. “Not just a miracle.” 

“But Alastair couldn’t hold up his end of the bargain,” Louis continues, brows furrowing as he considers what he could have bartered. Ten years of his life? His first-born child? He doesn’t know anything about demonic deals or rituals - none of them do. “Mrs. Sawyers says he was looking into occult and rituals - he trapped the demon in the pocket dimension and didn’t realize it would leave a mark on him.” 

“He was bound to the land,” Harry says slowly. “And it drove him to…” He trails off, looking sick.

Lilah says what they’re all thinking. “We’re going to need some help.”

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

After Lilah orders pizza and they have a tense dinner, she sends them off, giving Louis a specially charmed ward cuff and an angelic blade. It’s supposed to be reassuring but all Louis can think is that an angel is the only creature that can face a fiend and live but all he has is this weapon charmed with angelic light. 

“I pray to God that demon won’t ever grow firm enough for you to have to use this but if they do, you’ll have this,” Lilah tells him. 

It’s small, the blade about the length of Louis’ hand, but it’s sharp and solid in his hands. He clutches it close anyway, memorizing the weight and feel of it knowing that he might have to use it in the near future. 

The ward cuff is leather with a charmed amulet in the center and he fastens it to his wrist tightly. There’s no guarantee it’ll work effectively considering they’ve never had to test it on a demon but Louis likes having the extra protection just in case.

Harry stays quiet while Lilah is running through all of this, watching silently from nearby. He seemed so rattled when they first found out but now he just looks blank and unbothered. Louis can’t decide which one is more - or less - reassuring.

When he gasps out in pain, doubling over and squeezing his eyes shut, they realize they’ve wasted enough time. Harry helps him into the car and they drive like the wind back to Tennifield and Thistlewood Lane, also known as the hunting grounds. 

They’re both quiet as they head back into the house. Louis’ stir fry and brownies are still sitting on the counter, uneaten and gone cold. 

“Are you okay?” 

It’s such a loaded question. Is he okay? Is he alright knowing that he’s the target of an ancient demon that drove a man to end his life and has haunted the land for sixty years? No he’s not fucking okay. But he can’t tell Harry that - doesn’t want to tell him. It’s a combination of self-preservation and wanting to pretend like everything’s fine and maybe it’s dumb but Louis can’t help it. He is a paranormal investigator and a sort-of-witch, for fuck’s sake. He should not be scared.

So he pushes down his fear, trying to be strong. “I’m fine,” he says firmly. “We’re going to figure this out. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Harry watches him carefully before nodding. “Uh, it’s getting late…”

Throat dry, he realizes Harry has to go home soon. He’s going to leave - leave Louis here alone with a demon trying to drain his energy. 

_Don’t be a coward,_ he thinks lightly, before forcing himself to give Harry a reassuring smile. “You should get going. I’m fine, I promise.” 

He doesn’t want Harry to see him scared. 

“I - are you sure?” Harry asks incredulously, proving the suspicion that he thinks Louis can’t handle this or be brave. 

“I’m fine, Harry,” Louis says firmly. “I have the knife and the ward cuff and I’ll stay away from the backyard, I promise.” 

“You’re fine staying here alone?” Harry asks, brows furrowing into something upset. 

“Yes,” Louis says casually, hoping that if he pretends he’s not terrified out of his mind enough, it’ll become the truth. _I am not afraid._

“Are you _sure?”_ Harry repeats, frowning. 

Louis sighs exasperatedly. “It’ll be fine, Harry, I promise.” When Harry still doesn’t seem convinced, he adds, “I’ll call you if anything happens. And you can come over early tomorrow morning.” He probably won’t be sleeping well tonight anyway. 

“Alright,” Harry says. 

“Now go,” Louis says, urging him back towards the front door where he walks begrudgingly. He opens the door for Harry, tilting his head encouragingly. “See you tomorrow.” 

“Just,” Harry says, turning and running his eyes over him tensely, “stay safe.”

“I will,” Louis nods jerkily. _I will try._

“Bye, Louis,” Harry says softly, and for a second Louis thinks he sees hesitation in his gaze, but then he turns and walks away. 

He watches Harry get into his car and close the door, trying to ignore the fear churning in his stomach as he drives away, leaving Louis alone in the dark. 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

Louis doesn’t sleep a wink in the next two days and he’s utterly _exhausted._

It’s a little price to pay, he supposes, when he makes it through the night safe and intact both times. 

He puts on concealer to hide it from Harry during the day. He himself also looks tired and weary with bags beneath his eyes and a slump in his shoulders - probably from working on multiple cases, Louis thinks bitterly. 

They spent the majority of the day pouring over online resources on demons. There’s a lot of debate and skepticism on accuracy though and it becomes clear that the only way they’ll get legitimate information is by accessing the Council library. Gigi offers to handle the extensive paperwork that goes along with it and they resign themselves to waiting the usual wait time of a few days.

Actually, all of Louis’ team is helping in some way. After Louis tells them the news, all of them are understandably worried on his behalf, doing research and checking on him a total of a dozen times just that morning.

Harry too won’t leave him alone. He follows Louis everywhere throughout the day, even trying to follow him when he goes to take a shower until Louis smacks him in the shoulder. 

It’s not like he isn’t entirely grateful for even just his presence because when he’s alone, he’s vulnerable - he is very grateful. But he also feels like he’s suffocating under the flood his own worries and the downpour of everyone else’s. In the day time, it’s easier to be brave. It's the night that scares Louis the most. 

So here he is on night three of demon-imprintdom. The monster hasn’t shown itself beyond the usual thumps and creaks, but Louis already knows tonight will be different. 

He can feel it in his bones. 

And though he stalls as much as possible, he eventually gathers the courage to go upstairs and get ready for bed. He goes through his nightly routine impossibly slow, brushing his teeth until his lips are chapped and dry from stretching too long. He brushes his hair too, yanking out more than a few strands from how hard he tugs and then puts on his pajamas achingly slow. 

Finally, he faces the bed.

The heavenly blade is on the nightstand along with his phone and a glass of water. He stares at it for a minute, letting its presence reassure the apprehension flaring in his mind. He taps the cuff around his wrist too, reminding himself that it’s charmed with one of the most powerful warding spells in existence. 

After a minute, he carefully slides into bed and lays down, pulling the duvet up to his chin. He feels even more on edge than any other night before, skin prickling with goosebumps and senses on high alert. 

He doesn’t turn off the light like he hasn’t for the past few days, curling up as small as he can in the sheets and shutting his eyes reluctantly. Prayers of a good night’s rest and no nightmares whirl around his head but the lump in his throat doesn’t lessen. 

_I’ll be fine,_ he tells himself firmly. And then: _I am not afraid of ghosts._

Or, _I am not afraid of demons,_ he supposes. 

With a final deep breath, he forces himself to relax, slowly going through memories and people that make him happy. He starts with his mum and his sisters and brother, letting their smiling faces slow his racing heart. Then he thinks of Zayn and Gigi and Liam, memories playing through his mind like a picture reel. 

That time when Gigi and him helped a middle-aged male ghost pass over into the afterlife by getting him to see that he lived a full life. Another time when he and Liam were on a case with a centuries old spirit in Scotland who took quite a fancy to Louis, asking him if he’d give a dead man one last wish and take off his clothes. Doing a strip tease for an old duke wasn’t something he was willing to do, but he did give him a flash of tummy. His cheeks burn at that one. 

Most of all, he just remembers the in between moments. When they weren’t working on a case, just hanging out together at the shop. Gigi and Zayn being lovey dovey and him and Liam gagging exaggeratedly. Liam accidentally drinking a vial of truth potion and making the _strangest_ confessions. Hours spent watching trashy ghost or witch movies and laughing at the inaccuracies and stereotypes. 

Finally calm, he exhales again. Maybe he _will_ get to sleep tonight. 

He shifts onto his side, toes curling as the air conditioner switches on and cool air circulates in the room. 

Except - the house doesn’t have any air conditioning yet. He freezes. 

_I am not afraid_ , he chants mentally, curling into himself even more. _It’s just a breeze,_ he tells himself. Just a coincidence. Nothing serious. 

It only gets colder. Soon he’s shivering in the duvet, wrapping it tighter around himself. He knows there’s some blankets in the bottom drawer of the dresser but the thought of getting out of the safe nest of the bed and into the open has him quivering. He bundles himself up tighter and grits his teeth to keep them from chattering, cursing his lack of natural body heat. 

Next, there’s a thud. A familiar foreboding thud that has him reliving the events of that harrowing evening with another shudder. He squeezes his eyes shut even tighter. 

There’s no way he’s going to investigate this time. He’s learned his fucking lesson. If only the demon would realize and leave Louis alone. 

Another thump, followed by a loud and distinct clatter. He sucks in a breath, wishing he had ear plugs to block it out. 

He doesn’t realize that his fingers are curled tightly into the covers until he goes to tug it up further, almost up over his face, as if cotton fabric is a suitable shield from any and all supernatural threats. 

They curl around his middle next, hugging himself in silent comfort as another thud sounds in the house. It seems close - like in the next room over close. It’s never been so near, which means the demon is already growing stronger, using Louis as a vessel to sipon energy from and extend his reach. 

Swallowing, he once again tries to make himself smaller, as if shrinking enough would let him disappear - would keep him _safe._

Right now, he doesn’t feel safe at all. 

A loud clang has him bolting up, gasping out in terror. That one sounded like it was in the room with him. He scans the room, eyes tracing over the familiar carpet and dresser and full length mirror. He’s alone in here. 

Alone with a _demon_ that’s trying to swap places with him. 

**_Louis._ **

He freezes. 

No. Nope. No. He’s making it up. His name was not just uttered by a creepy raspy voice, nope. Impossible. 

**_Louis Tomlinson… I have been waiting a long time._ **The voice is hoarse and low, curling into his ears like nothing but a gust of wind. 

Heart in his throat, he reaches for the nightstand, fumbling for his phone with one hand and grabbing the heavenly blade with the other. He checks the time. It’s just after midnight, so barely even thirty minutes since he got up here. He scoots back until his back hits the headboard, biting on the inside of his cheek. 

He shrieks at the next noise, clutching the knife closer to his chest. _It can’t touch me,_ he thinks. _It can’t touch me it can’t touch me it can’t touch me._ It doesn’t do much to make him feel better. He unlocks his phone again, staring at the screen with heavy eyes until they start burning. Another wave of cold air passes over him and he shivers. Then he dials a number he’s had memorized since the first time he saw it and tugs the duvet back up over his trembling body, waiting. 

It only takes a second. 

“Louis? Are you okay?” Harry says immediately, worry seeping through his voice and the phone line until it’s sticking to Louis’ skin, mingling with the mess of relief and desperation already there. 

“Harry,” he breathes, voice wavering. It suddenly becomes apparent that he just called Harry, but not just that - he called Harry because he’s _scared._

Color floods his cheeks as he imagines how this will sound - he’s hearing noises and voices and he can’t be by himself even with a ward cuff on his wrist and an angelic blade within his grasp. No wonder Harry seems to doubt his credibility as a ghost hunter. He exhales, the words “Never mind,” on the tip of his tongue before something prickles at his vision and he stiffens. 

Blood. There’s blood dripping down the walls. Thick ribbons of crimson sliding down the wood sluggishly. 

“Louis?” Harry says in his ear, sounding even more worried. 

His grip tightens on the device and on the knife. “Harry,” he repeats. “Harry, there’s blood on the wall.”

“What?”

“There’s blood dripping down the wall,” Louis hisses, hugging his knees to his chest. “Like horror movie style but _real_ , holy shit.” He actually doesn’t know if it’s real - doesn’t really _want_ to know. 

“Fuck,” Harry breathes. “You’ve got your knife with you?”

“Yes, but that’ll only work if there’s actually something to stab,” he rushes, tripping over his words. So far the demon is playing it subtle, relying on freaking Louis the fuck out instead of showing its face. 

“What about a blaster?” Harry asks, and Louis scans the room in a panic, already knowing the answer but wishing it was different. 

“It’s downstairs,” he whispers. “And I have a really bad feeling that if I get out of this bed, I won’t make it out of this room ever again.” He doesn’t mean to sound so dramatic but it’s the truth - there’s a deep awareness coiling in his gut and it rings of honesty. And so does the wisps of darkness permeating from the corners of the room. “Shit, it’s coming.” 

“It’s coming? The demon?” Harry asks. 

“Yeah,” Louis rasps, shrinking into himself again. And then he says something he swore he would never say. “Harry, I’m scared.” 

Harry is silent for a tense few seconds before he’s exhaling raggedly. “Keep talking, I’m on my way.” 

Louis furrows his brows. Harry is on his way? “You’re thirty minutes away,” he says, dazed. In thirty minutes, he might already be dead. 

“Just keep talking, Louis,” Harry says. “What are you wearing?”

He narrows his eyes. “That’s not very appropriate, Mr. Styles.” It comes out shaky. 

“God, shut up. I don’t know what to ask,” Harry complains, but there’s no bite to his tone, too full with concern and worry. “Has Venus come back yet?” 

“No,” Louis whispers, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as he remembers that he hasn’t seen his beloved familiar for over a week now. He’s glad she’s gone though - glad she isn’t here to witness this. Familiars have always been known to have ties to the demon world and she must have sensed the danger long before he had. “You’re supposed to ask me something happier, asshole.” 

He hears the sound of a door opening on Harry’s end and his fear grows. There’s a demon trying to trap him here forever and Harry hasn’t even left his house yet. There’s no way he’s actually going to make it. He’s got no teleportation powers and it’s too late to hail Gigi for a portal either. She’s probably having mind blowing sex with Zayn at their flat with her phone turned off.

“Is Liam still single?”

“Why, are you interested?” Louis snaps, temples beginning to throb. Another wave of cold air washes over him and he shudders. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Cursing works too, just keep talking,” Harry urges. 

“Fucking fuck, I fucking hate you,” Louis says, jolting when another loud clang sends the headboard rattling. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck!” 

“Where did you say the blaster is?” Harry asks urgently. 

“It’s downstairs with my kit in the living room!” Louis exclaims, staring helplessly as the darkness creeps closer and closer, rising from the floor and swirling through the air like an inescapable mist. The blood is still trickling down the walls, a deliberate warning - or omen. “I can’t get it, Harry, think of something else!”

The darkness starts twisting into a figure and Louis sucks in a breath, listening to Harry breathe harshly through the phone. It sounds like he’s running. But he can’t run and save Louis now, it’s too late. 

He takes a deep breath, letting the magic simmering in his veins awaken and channeling it into his hands. It’s present but sluggish, slowed down by the fiend currently leeching energy from him. He can feel the coursing blood in his veins falter into a muted pace, thick and clogged. 

_My name is Louis Tomlinson and I am not afraid._

It turns into a mantra and he chants it over and over, eyes fluttering shut: _My name is Louis Tomlinson and I am not afraid. My name is Louis Tomlinson and I am not afraid. My name is Louis Tomlinson and I am not afraid._

A door creaks open and he screams. 

“Louis, it’s me,” Harry says and his eyes open, a second scream clawing its way up his throat. _Harry._ Harry is here, and he’s wielding Louis’ blaster, green light flashing through the room at its highest setting and rendering Louis momentarily blind. 

It all vanishes: the blood, the murky darkness, the cold air.

Louis exhales, fumbling for words but all that comes out is a choked sob. Harry drops the blaster and rushes towards him. He seems hesitant for a moment but it disappears as Louis continues crying, pained little sounds that he tries to tamp down but tear through his entire body anyway. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he’s saying softly. “You’re _safe._ Lou, you’re safe.” 

“I’m not,” Louis gasps out, shaking his head. He doesn’t even flinch when Harry gets onto the bed and frames his face, his big hands warm and steady against Louis’ wet cheeks. He stills immediately, having not realized he was shaking violently. “How did you get here so fast?” he blurts. 

Harry actually looks sheepish when his vision focuses enough for him to look properly. “I, uhhh,” he ducks his head, embarrassed. “I was just down the street.”

Frowning, Louis narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“I’ve been sleeping in my car since we found out about the demon,” he confesses, all in a rush. 

“What?” Louis says, taken aback. That was close to the last thing he expected Harry to say. “Like - actually sleeping in your car? Down the street? Why?”

“You know why,” he mumbles. 

Suddenly feeling faint, Louis clears his throat. “Humor me,” he says quietly. 

“I don’t want to leave you alone,” he says, syllables running together and volume dipping at the end. Despite his efforts, Louis still hears him loud and clear. 

“You’ve been sleeping in your car because you’re worried about me,” he says slowly. 

“I’m not - I’m not trying to say you can’t take care of yourself. I know you can,” Harry scrambles to defend. “It’s just - I can’t leave you here by yourself when there’s a _monster_ trying to hurt you, I just can’t. Nothing can happen to you. I - I wouldn’t be able to handle it.” 

Louis bites his lip, trying to ignore the way his heart swells at the confession. “Harry, I’m not mad at you,” he says shyly. He’s quite the opposite actually - reassured and relieved that Harry’s always been so close. That if Louis needed him like he did today, he’d be here. 

“Good,” Harry breathes, the furrow in his forehead smoothing out. 

“Where have you been parking?” Louis asks. In a small town like Tennifield, he already _knows_ there’s plenty of nosy observers who’d notice the constant presence of Harry’s car parked in front of a house all night. 

“Uh, Mrs. Sawyers lets me park in front of her yard,” Harry admits, looking sheepish and maybe even a bit embarrassed. “She also lets me use her bathroom to change and brush my teeth in the morning so I don’t have to drive back every time. I, uh, told her that we got into a fight and I agreed to stay away… but that I was anxious being so far away from you. When I told her I needed to look out for my boy, she was happy to do it.” 

“Oh,” Louis says eloquently.

There seems to be a matching light pink on Harry’s cheeks too before he looks away. 

Louis looks down, pulling his knees to his chest yet again. “I thought you’ve been so tired because you’re working on multiple cases,” he admits quietly. 

“I dropped them,” Harry says after a moment. “I can’t focus on any other case than this one. Not - not when you’re in danger.” 

Unable to respond, Louis just stares at his pajama-clad knees. 

After a minute, the mattress shifts as Harry gets up and starts walking to the door, setting off alarm bells in Louis’ mind. 

“Don’t go!” he blurts, panic bubbling up again. 

Harry is wide-eyed when he turns back around - wide-eyed and horrified. “No, of course not, I’m not going!” he says hurriedly. His eyes roam over Louis’ face, softening. “I’m staying. Especially after that. I’m not leaving you alone in this house with a monster”

Louis nods, really hoping the deep flush blooming across his cheeks isn’t visible. “Okay,” he says. 

“Okay,” Harry echoes. He clears his throat, gesturing to the floor. “I’ll just borrow a pillow and some blankets and sleep down here.”

“No, no way,” Louis shakes his head empathetically. “You don’t understand - the floor has bad juju.”

“Not juju!” Harry exclaims, faux-horror stretching across his face. He ignores Louis’ scowl but he can’t ignore the pillow that gets launched at him right after, laughing out in surprise as he bats it away. 

“We can share the bed,” Louis says quietly. He ignores the part of him that wants Harry as near as possible for selfish reasons - wants the safety and warmth and familiarity that only he can provide, especially after what happened. 

Harry seems to see it anyway, nodding carefully. “Sure,” he says, but he points back to the door. “I do have to go lock the front door though. I was a bit distracted coming in.”

“Oh. Right,” Louis says, exhaling. 

“I’ll be right back,” Harry promises, staring at him with an intense expression as if trying to see if Louis is really going to be okay if he’s gone only for a minute. 

He rolls his eyes at the unnecessary action. “Just go already, Styles. I’m fine.” 

“Already gone,” Harry says, slipping out of the door and shutting it behind him. 

Louis lied. He waits for Harry with his hands wrapped tightly around the hilt of the heavenly knife and his eyes in constant movement, stiffening at the slightest of movements. 

He is _not_ afraid of demons. 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

Waking up pressed between a bed and a heavy male body has always been on Louis’ list of pleasurable ways to start the morning, however, none of those instances have been quite like this. 

For one, he can barely move. His legs are trapped between Harry’s and his arms are caught between their chests, barred of any potential movement. He can feel the rough texture of Harry’s stubble grazing his temple, a strong arm wound around his shoulders and pulling him tight against a firm chest. 

More importantly, the duvet is still in place instead of flung across the room and there’s no remnants of magic sparking at his fingertips - or, at least from what he can tell considering he can’t actually _see_ them. 

The benefits of sleeping with a human power dampener, he muses. They both went to bed on opposite sides of the mattress but Louis had known it’d eventually end up like this. One person with chaotic magic and the other one of the only ones capable of slowing it down - they’re like two magnets trapped in a small space. They can try all they want, but they’ll still be yanked into each other in the end. He doesn’t feel too upset about it, not when he actually woke up feeling _well rested._

It should probably be alarming that this is the best sleep he’s gotten in months and he almost died last night, but Louis can’t really process any other emotions right now other than contentment and relief. 

There’s also a steady thrum of _safe safe safe_ running through his head. 

So instead of shoving Harry off of him or waking him up, he just sighs softly and closes his eyes again, letting the lingering remnants of sleep pull him under again. 

The next time he stirs, the sun is filtering through the windows, bright and pure. It bathes the room in a golden light, like something out of a painting. Right now, it seems almost crazy to imagine that there was blood on those walls and a demon trying to take form by the mirror, but it happened. 

It happened and it can happen again if they don’t figure out how to stop it. 

He lays there stiffly for a second, the memories of last night replaying in his head. 

As if sensing that Louis is freaking out again, Harry shifts on top of him. “Stop thinking about it,” he murmurs gruffly, voice raspy and hoarse with the heaviness of morning. 

Louis exhales. “How’d you know?”

“Your magic is picking up,” Harry whispers, words muffled against the pillow. His arm tightens around Louis’ shoulders and that’s when he realizes his body is rigid.“Can feel it thrumming. Need to slow it down which means you need to stop panicking. Go to sleep, Lou.” 

Lou. So they’re on nickname basis now. He supposes it’s fitting considering Harry has saved his life bordering on two times in the past week now. 

“It’s nine in the morning,” is all he says in reply. 

Harry grunts in response. 

Rolling his eyes, Louis pushes at Harry’s chest, meeting minimal results. “Get off me,” he complains, trying to wriggle out from under him. “I need breakfast.” 

He nearly jumps when two hands land on his hips, squeezing in warning. “Stop moving,” Harry says slowly. 

It takes a second for the implications to settle and then Louis is blushing. “Sorry,” he stutters, cheeks hot. “I do want to get out though,” he adds. 

A sigh. Harry rolls off of him, taking the duvet with him as he turns onto his side and promptly falls asleep again. 

Some things never change, Louis muses. He gets out of bed onto wobbly legs, grabbing his phone and heading for the door. He walks faster than he normally would, still unable to dispel the paranoia that’s settled in his stomach no matter how safe Harry makes him feel. 

The kitchen has always felt like the warmest place in the house but even it feels vaguely dangerous as he gets out the brownies he made yesterday and takes a bite out of one. It’s breakfast, yes, but Louis thinks he deserves the sugar right now. 

He’s cutting up some persimmons when he hears a thump upstairs followed by the muffled sound of Harry cursing. “Everything alright?” he calls out carefully. Harry probably just stubbed his toe or something, but for some reason he can tell that isn’t the case. Something is prickling at his skin, grating at his conscience. 

Setting the knife down carelessly, he rushes upstairs. 

The bathroom door is ajar so he goes there first, stopping short and sucking in a breath when he sees the word written on the mirror. 

**LOUIS.**

It’s written in _blood._

Harry is rubbing anxiously at the L with a damp washcloth, meeting minimal results. He jumps when he sees Louis’ reflection, concern painted across his face as their eyes meet in the glass. “Lou -”

“This really is starting to feel like a horror movie,” he says faintly.

“We’re going to stop it,” Harry promises, fingers flexing as he continues to wipe at the glass. No matter how much strength he puts into it, the blood doesn’t give, thick and dark and searing into Louis’ eyes the longer he stares at it. “Lou, don’t look at it.” 

“Right,” he says, nodding jerkily. He swallows, taking a step back and wincing when he bumps into the door handle. “I’m - I’m going to finish making breakfast.” 

“Okay,” Harry says gently, still looking at him with worry in his eyes. 

Louis backs away slowly, tearing his gaze away from the letters and squeezing his eyes shut. The imprints don’t leave, stark red burned into the backs of his eyelids as he ambles back downstairs. His hand shakes when he picks the knife back up, staticky pinpricks of magic sparking all over his body no matter how many deep breaths he takes. 

Suddenly, he’s the farthest thing from hungry. 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

Gigi and Zayn arrive at 28 Thistlewood Lane via portal somewhere after lunch. Liam wasn’t able to come - too busy dealing with a case that popped up out of the blue with some pesky gargoyles escaping from Beaumaris Castle in Wales. He reluctantly flew up late last night but promised he’d be back by tomorrow. Until then, Gigi and Zayn gladly take up the role of three people. 

They both crush Louis into a cuddle within seconds, squeezing him so tight he can barely breathe. But when they finally release him, there’s warmth blooming across his body. 

“Good to see you guys too,” he says honestly. 

Harry steps forward and introduces himself. It hits him then that Gigi and Zayn don’t actually know Harry - they know _of_ him, of course, but they’ve never talked to him. He pays attention to their faces as Harry tells them it’s nice to meet them. 

“We’ve heard so much about you,” Zayn says emotionlessly and Gigi elbows him. 

Right, he forgot his friends are the worst. “Okay, do you guys need a house tour or can we just get started?” Louis asks hastily, trying to prevent them from saying anything else embarrassing. 

“We can do that later,” Gigi decides, already gliding towards the kitchen. She’s wearing a long maxi skirt and her witchmark is exposed in her halter top, glinting in the light. “We have work to do.” 

They settle in the living room, getting comfortable. 

“So, I know you told me to just get the most relevant titles but you know I always say the more the merrier so I went and borrowed every book in the Council library on demons and exorcisms,” Gigi says casually, taking a seat in the armchair and propping her feet on the table. 

Louis and Harry exchange looks, before giving her matching expectant expressions. 

She claps her hands and stacks upon stacks of books materialize on the table, making Louis jump. 

“Shit,” Harry breathes. 

There’s not just a few stacks of books here - there’s somewhere close to a _hundred._ Some big and thick and others thin and flimsy, most of them falling apart at the seams. “Don’t these libraries have limits on how many books you can check out?” Louis asks, eyes wide as they wander over the spines that range from _A History of Demons_ to _Dealing with the Devil._

“I may have pulled some strings,” Gigi shrugs. She glances at Harry. “When’s your friend coming?” 

“Wouldn’t exactly call us friends,” Harry mutters, but he checks his phone anyway. “He just texted me that he’s almost here. Ten, twenty minutes?” 

She nods. “Okay, let’s get cracking. We can split the stacks into five, how does that sound?” 

They nod their agreement and Louis resists the urge to groan when Gigi separates the books into five groups and pushes his stack towards him. Still, he knows that the only way they’re going to figure out how to save him is by doing good old research, so he perseveres. 

He expects them all to continue in silence but apparently Gigi has other plans. 

“So, Harry, are you single?” she asks, and Louis almost chokes. 

“Uh…” Harry says. “Yeah.” 

Louis, very subtly, levitates a coaster from the kitchen table and bumps it into Gigi’s shin, out of view of anyone else. 

She jumps at the feeling, shooting him a withering look. But apparently assault-by-slate isn’t enough to deter her, because she pushes on. “How has it been working with Louis these past couple of weeks?” 

“Um -”

“Maybe we should read in silence,” Louis interrupts, glaring at Gigi. “So we can actually get things done?” 

Gigi grins at him, but she stays silent much to his relief. He finally relaxes, though it might have been too soon. 

“What’s your spirit count?” Zayn asks, and Louis very nearly groans aloud. 

“I’m not sure?” Harry says, narrowing his eyes. “Is that something mediums count?” 

“Mine is 214,” Zayn says, blinking slowly. He notices Louis’ staring and shrugs. “Just wondering. I don’t get to talk to mediums a lot, okay? Give me a break.” 

“Be quiet,” Louis grumbles. 

Finally, they all settle into some semblance of peace with the sounds of pages flipping and bodies shifting are the only things to disrupt it. 

However, a bit later Harry excuses himself to go to the bathroom and Gigi takes the opportunity to break it again. “Not surprised you guys dated - he’s fit!”

“Shut up,” Louis mutters, pointedly focusing on the book he’s skimming. _The first recorded demon possession was in Autumn 1705, in Haymarket, England._

But Gigi apparently likes to make him squirm because she keeps talking. “I’m not surprised he’s into what you told me about anymore. He looks like the type.” 

His head snaps up, face burning. He had forgotten that she knew that dirty piece of information. Damn Gigi for always loosening him up with wine when they hang out and getting him to confess things he would normally never confess. 

“What’d he tell you?” Zayn asks, looking between them curiously. 

“Oh, nothing,” Gigi says airily, before smirking. “Just that he used to call his ex-boyfriend -”

Louis launches a pillow at her with a flick of his finger, cheeks turning red. “I’ll put a hole through your wall,” he threatens, narrowing his eyes. 

She giggles and Zayn looks even more confused, but also a bit like he’s glad he doesn’t know what they’re talking about. 

A knock sounds at the door, announcing the arrival of what must be Harry’s friend. Louis offers to get it, needing to escape Gigi’s exposing questions. His hand wraps around the knob and he pulls, mouth opening to say hello. He stops short. 

The guy standing on the other side is tall and Louis has to look up to see his face. He’s blonde and broad, hazel eyes widening and then trailing down Louis’ figure. A slow smirk spreads across his face. “You’re Louis,” he says, amused. 

Louis blinks, taken aback. “Um, yeah? And you are?” 

The man sticks his hand out with a grin. “Cameron Amherst, paranormal investigator and a dabbler in demonology.”

Wary, Louis shakes his hand carefully before stepping back. “Come in.” 

Cameron is looking at him with a bit of a smug expression, like he knows something Louis doesn’t. It’s unnerving and the feeling gets worse when he says, “I’ve been looking forward to finally meeting you since I’ve heard so much about you.”

“And I haven’t heard anything about you,” Louis says brightly, before turning and beginning to walk away. “S’a bit strange to introduce yourself like that - oh, Harry!” 

Harry has appeared at the arch leading into the kitchen, a frown on his face and a furrow between his brows. He doesn’t glance at Louis, and instead stares directly at Cameron, gaze heavy and annoyed. “Cam.” 

“Harold,” Cameron drawls, grinning smugly. “Good to see you, mate.” 

The look Harry sends him is nothing short of cold. Louis begins to wonder if there’s something he’s missing. Cameron and Harry clearly don’t get along - at least, anymore. 

The three of them walk stiffly back to the living room and take their places. Cameron introduces himself to Gigi and Zayn.

Gigi sets her book down, squinting her eyes at him. “How much do you truly know about demons?” 

“I did a five year course on them so I’d definitely say more than all of you put together,” Cameron says easily, smirking. 

“Arrogant,” Zayn says, tsking. “But we’re sort of desperate here. So whatcha got?” 

Cameron turns back to Louis then. “How long have you had the imprint?” 

“Three days,” Louis says, feeling the familiar feeling of panic rise in him. Three days with a demon trapping him here. 

“Alright, that’s not too bad,” Cameron says, clearly noticing the apprehension in his eyes. “We’ve still got time.” 

“But not enough,” Harry interrupts. He’s still frowning, looking a mixture of annoyed and frustrated. “We have to perform an exorcism.” 

“I’m getting to that, Harold,” Cameron says. 

“Harry,” Harry corrects, annoyance breaching frustration for that moment. 

“Anyway, in order to dispel a demon from our world and back to its world, there’s two options,” Cameron says, looking serious all of a sudden. “The first is very risky - it would involve Louis willingly being possessed -“

“No,” Harry interrupts, eyes flickering to Louis before narrowing at Cameron. “No way.”

“What’s the other option?” Louis asks, trying to maintain his calm. 

Cameron sighs. “Both options are connected under one main goal. The only way to banish a demon is by learning their true name.” 

Louis exhales. True name. He’s definitely heard something about that in movies or books but he supposes even human perceptions of creatures are at least somewhat grounded in the truth. 

“That being said,” Cameron continues. “There is supposedly a spell...”

“A spell,” Gigi echoes. 

“Supposedly?” Harry asks flatly. 

“It’s a really complicated spell,” Cameron continues, ignoring Harry’s skepticality. “The incantation is in Latin and it requires a _lot_ of energy. But when you use it, you can learn anything’s deepest secrets.” 

“But it’s been done before?” Zayn asks hopefully. “It’s worked?” 

Cameron looks at him, hesitating. “It’s been used only three times that we know of in history. Two of three have worked, but the third…” 

Swallowing dryly, Louis tries not to think too hard about those odds. 

“And once we have the true name, then what?” Gigi asks, face pinching like it does when she’s mulling something over. 

“Then you have complete power over them,” Cameron shrugs. “In other words, you can break the imprint and banish them back to their world for good.” 

“That simple, huh,” Harry says dubiously. “Where is this spell?” 

“It’s not in any of those books, I can tell you that,” Cameron says smoothly. “It isn’t written down anywhere. It’s only shared viva voce - or through word of mouth. There’s only a few witches in the world you know it.” 

“Okay… so how do we find one of them?” Gigi asks. 

Cameron flashes her a smile. “You already have.” He tugs the collar of his shirt down, revealing a witchmark on his chest - a _black_ witchmark. Necromancy, or the least common affinity. “I know it,” he says, before turning to Louis. “And I can teach it to you.” 

“Should’ve started with that,” Harry mutters. 

“Hang on,” Louis says, shaking his head. “ _I_ can’t be the one to cast the spell.” 

“Why? You’re a witch, aren’t you?” Cameron asks. “Plus you’re the one with the imprint so you have the strongest connection to the fiend.” 

“I don’t even have my witchmark,” Louis says, blushing. He glances at Gigi who’s sending him a sympathetic look. “Gigi can do it. I can’t.” 

“Louis -” she protests. 

“No,” Louis says. “This is my _life,_ Gigi. If I’m going to put it in someone’s hands, it’s going to be you. If I do it, there’s too big of a risk.” 

“I’m going to have to agree,” Zayn says uneasily. “I think Louis is underestimating himself but when the stakes are this high… Babe, you’ve got to do it.” 

“Spells aren’t even my affinity,” Gigi shakes her head. 

“And yet you’re still so damn good at them,” Louis says. “You’re the most powerful witch I know. I _trust_ you.” 

Gigi doesn’t reply, but she nods after a second, jaw setting. 

“One more thing,” Cameron says. “While we want to do this as soon as possible because the longer Louis stays like this, the more vulnerable he’ll be, the best time to cast this spell is when the barrier between worlds is at its thinnest, aka when there’s a -”

“Full moon,” Gigi finishes, looking grim. “There’s one on October 24th, which means we have less than a week.”

“Even better, it’s a Hunter’s Moon this month so the barrier will be even weaker,” Cameron says brightly. “Couldn’t be a better time.” 

“I think not having to do this at all would be better, actually,” Harry says, rolling his eyes. Louis glances at him, surprised by all of his broody comments. Clearly there’s something tense between him and Cameron - yet he still invited him over. 

“Does Gigi have to make a portal to banish the demon or will it just… disappear?” Zayn asks. 

“Portal,” Cameron nods. “Which is why in the most ideal situation, there’d be two witches doing this.” He glances at Louis again who looks away pointedly. “But… one witch can do it too if they practice enough.” 

“Which means I need to get started right away,” Gigi says grimly, before she takes a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.”

The first thing they do is get rid of all the books, freeing the table space for Cameron to conjure a hovering slate. “As soon as I write down the first verse, it’s going to vanish so I hope your memories are pretty good. Don’t say it aloud either. God knows who could be listening.” 

They all nod and Louis forces himself to pay attention. Even if Gigi is going to cast the spell, he should learn it just in case. The thought of having to perform it himself makes his skin crawl but he endures it. 

Cameron concentrates, eyes narrowing as blue light appears in the air and begins spelling out words. As soon as the first line appears, it dissolves into nothing, making room for the next stanza. Louis’ knowledge of Latin is limited but he’s able to recognize some words such as ‘daemonium’ for demon, ‘protero’ for banish, and ‘angelus’ for angel. 

All too quickly, it’s over. He blinks, mind scrambling to hold onto the wisps of words he had retained but they float away, just out of reach. 

“Did anyone get that?” Zayn asks, voice hushed like he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to be talking right now. 

“I got most of it,” Gigi says, biting her lip. “Missed a few in the middle.” 

“We can do it again, but not too many times,” Cameron says. “Pay more attention this time.” 

Once again, threads of blue light form in the air and spell out words. Louis forces himself to really concentrate this time, opening his mind and letting his inner witch - the one that can remember recipes to complicated potions and has memorized dozens upon dozens of incantations in the past - take control. 

This time, the words do sink in. By the time the light fades, the remnants of the glowing words are seared into Louis’ eyes. 

“Did you get it?” Cameron asks. 

_Yes,_ he thinks, but Cameron was talking to Gigi. 

She nods. “I have it… what about the actual casting?” 

“Surprisingly, that’s the simple part,” Cameron says. “It’s a basic movement.” He demonstrates it for them, arms open wide and before coming up in the middle and blooming out. “The most important part is the _intent.”_ He glances at Louis. “In other words, you have to want to know the demon’s true name with everything you’ve got. I suggest focusing on how much you want to help your beautiful friend.” 

Louis freezes, taken aback. Zayn and Gigi are wearing matching expressions of shock. And Harry - he coughs. Loudly. 

“Um, anyways,” Cameron says once it becomes clear no one is going to respond to that. “The intent is the most important part of all of this.”

Gigi nods, glancing at Louis and smiling warmly. “I don’t think that’ll be too difficult.” 

They continue to discuss strategies and important things to keep in mind and Louis does his best to listen and absorb the information. Knowing everything that needs to happen settles the panic festering in his chest - it makes him feel like he’s actually got a chance. 

**_Louis._ **

He freezes. 

No, no, no - not again. 

Paralyzed in place, the sounds of everyone talking around him dull to a low buzz in the back of his mind. A shiver runs down his spine and he swallows, clenching his fists helplessly. 

Next comes the cold, washing over him in a frigid gust. He scans the others, all of whom don’t react. Is he the only one who can feel it?

His gaze meets Harry’s next and Harry frowns, eyes running over Louis’ tensed body. “Guys,” he says, interrupting the others and drawing their attention to him as he continues to look at Louis. “Are they here?” he asks gently, talking to Louis and Louis only.

“I… don’t know. I can feel them though,” he says, flinching when the voice returns. **_You cannot hide much longer._ **

“Blaster?” Harry asks, looking around for the weapon. 

“No, wait,” Cameron says, holding his hands up. “Hold on.” 

Harry whips around to glare at him. “Hold on? There is a _demon_ in this room -”

“Styles, shut up for a moment, will you,” Cameron interrupts annoyedly. “Which one of us is the expert here?” He pauses for effect, brows furrowing. “It’s not going to do anything when there’s five of us here. Just wait for a second.” 

Louis holds his breath, resisting the urge to shrink back when all of them stare at him, waiting. But after a moment, the cold withdraws from his skin and so does the presence he was feeling. He exhales shakily. “They’re gone.” He swallows, standing up. “I need a minute.” 

He thinks Zayn is the one who tells the others to let him be, sensing that Louis genuinely needs to be alone for a bit. He takes advantage of it, climbing up the stairs to the first landing before sitting down and slumping against the wall. Like this, he’s in between the two floors of the house. In between the night and day, in between nightmares and reality. 

A demon has imprinted on him and with every passing minute, his tether to this house - to this _land_ \- is growing stronger while he’s growing weaker and soon he’ll be easy pickings for trading places with the monster. 

It’s terrifying - fucking fuck, it’s terrifying. Louis feels like he’s on the verge of crying or screaming till his throat goes hoarse but he just stays silent, numb to it all. He thinks about Niall. 

Before Louis, it was him that the fiend had set his sights on. It makes Louis feel sick to imagine the man going through his days, completely oblivious to the way he had been lured in and then hunted, defenses dropping until he was vulnerable to the claws looking to sink into his mortal flesh. If Louis and his team hadn’t accepted his case, or even if they had but delayed it for a more pressing one, he could have been dead by now. 

This house had been his miracle crops - his miracle house. A blessing, something he couldn’t quite believe was real. But it really was too good to be true. A parallel to sixty years ago, like history repeating itself.

But Louis will be damned if he doesn’t let Niall end up like Alastair Howards. 

They have a shot. A good one too. A spell and his team and pure will. They have a shot. _Louis_ has a shot. To get through this and survive. 

So he can’t let himself be scared anymore. 

Standing up, he takes a deep breath before walking back downstairs. He rubs at his eyes, wiping away the tears that didn’t get a chance to fall, and then pauses in the hallway to glance at the mirror, noting the slump in his posture and the fatigue coating the lines of his face. There’s determination there too, and Louis thinks that’s what really matters. 

Exhaling quietly, he makes to take a step before freezing at the sound of voices coming from the kitchen. 

“So that was Louis,” Cameron is saying, sounding amused again. “Can’t say I blame you much anymore, pal. He’s -”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Harry grunts, sounding peeved. “And stop flirting with him and staring at his arse. There are much more important things to worry about, we’re running out of time.”

“All the more reason for me to shoot my shot,” Cameron jokes, before chuckling. It ends abruptly and he sounds awkward when he says, “Chill, H. I was joking.” 

Louis bites his lip and walks away before he can hear anymore, cheeks hot. 

Zayn and Gigi are going over a book in the living room and Louis joins them, trying not to react when Harry and Cameron step back into the room a few minutes later. 

Cameron continues talking about demons and Louis finds himself tuning it out, a little reassured that Harry, Gigi, and Zayn were still listening. 

By the time they wrap it up, it’s almost six. Louis’ earlier confidence has dulled but it’s still there, so he doesn’t give himself too much shit for it. Cameron leaves first and Louis feels a bit more relaxed with him gone. Gigi and Harry have started up a conversation about portals and Louis doesn’t pay attention to that either. 

He’s surprised when a hand lands on his shoulder. It’s Zayn, worry etched across his face. 

“Can I talk to you a second?” he asks. 

Louis nods, recognizing the urgency in his friend’s posture as they move off to the side. “What is it, Z?”

“I had an omen dream last night,” Zayn blurts immediately, face serious. 

Omen dreams. As a precognition psychic, he's occasionally granted insights into the future in the form of murky dreams. They’re often vague and difficult to decipher, but telling by Zayn’s worried expression, he seems to have gotten the gist of this one. 

“How anxious is this going to make me?” Louis asks, sighing in resignation. 

Zayn shakes his head. “Just… be careful, alright? Not just now, but on the 24th. Don’t know if it’ll come as a shock, but you play a key role in this story - arguably the most important one. I have a feeling this isn’t going to be as simple as Cameron made it seem, but I also have faith in you and in Gigi. We can do this.” 

He takes Louis’ hand, squeezing it for emphasis. 

Louis doesn’t hesitate before squeezing back. “We can do this,” he echoes, hoping he sounds more convinced than he feels. 

They _have_ to do this. They’ve got no other choice. 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

Harry is quiet when Louis announces that he’s going to order dinner. He’s pretty sure neither of them are in the mood for cooking and to be frank, Louis could use the pick-me-up. 

The hour long wait is inconvenient and so is the extra service fee for driving so far out, but Louis couldn’t care less. He needs pure greasy deliciousness and he needs it now. He orders it half cheese and half veggie, remembering Harry’s preference. He tries not to think too hard about how familiar and right it feels to say _their_ order out loud. 

When he’s finished, he wanders upstairs and hears the sound of water running, meaning Harry’s taking a shower. The guest room looks disarmingly peaceful when he steps in, sheets rumpled from the morning and their case board propped against the desk. Louis had updated it sometime yesterday and it’s even more crowded than before. Taking a few steps further into the room, he lets out a sigh. 

He feels antsy doing nothing so he rummages through his bag for one of the books he brought along, curling up on the bed and flipping open to where he bookmarked his spot. 

Reading always relaxes him but today he can’t focus. Every few lines, his eyes dart up and around the room, searching for threats. He feels tense and wired up, the light from the setting sun filtering in through the window and reminding him that it’ll be night soon. 

A creaking sound has him stiffening again, exhaling in relief when he realizes it’s just Harry. Except, he stiffens again when Harry appears in the doorway, chest bare and sweats hanging low on his hips. He’s drying his hair with a towel, water dripping from the ends and down to his torso, abdomen muscles going taut with each movement.

They tense when Harry glances over and sees him. 

“Sorry,” Louis blurts, face turning red as he practically springs from the bed. He realizes Harry is still blocking the door and stops short, flustered as he averts his gaze and tries not to think about how he knows what it feels to be pressed up against that body. 

Harry moves aside and he very nearly _bolts_ out of the room. “Um, I ordered pizza by the way!” he calls out as he flees down the stairs. 

“So so so stupid,” he mutters to himself. 

Not only that, but he forgot his book. He groans, flopping onto his belly on the couch. He’s still laying like that when Harry comes downstairs a minute later. 

“Are you alright?” he asks and Louis cringes because why did he think it was a good idea for Harry to stay with him again? 

Louis reluctantly turns his head so his cheek is smushed against the couch cushion, blinking at Harry looks like he’s holding back a smile as he looks at him. “I’m fine, just tired,” he says, closing his eyes. 

“How are you feeling about everything?” Harry asks. Louis opens his eyes just in time to see him sit down in the armchair. 

“Like shit,” Louis mumbles. He purses his lips, before adding, “Better than before.” 

“That’s good,” Harry says. 

Silence follows, and Louis carefully sits up on the couch, pulling his knees to his chest. 

“I’m glad the others are helping,” Harry ventures after a moment. “And that we’re not doing this alone. Just.. makes me think.” 

“About what?” Louis asks. 

“I dunno… just that it’d be nice to work on a team,” Harry says, shrugging. “To have guaranteed back-up and to work on cases with another person.” 

Louis stares at him in surprise, having not expected anything akin to those words to come out of Harry’s mouth ever. But then he really thinks about it. Harry’s a Department paranormal investigator - he gets assignments from a supervisor (even if he is the best in his area) and carries them out before getting another set of assignments. The only time he consults other investigators is when he needs the expertise of a different ability. Harry has friends in the business - of course he does. Lilah and Sarah and Mitch to name a few, but he doesn’t work closely with them. 

“It is nice,” Louis says belatedly, voice soft. “It’s nice not to be alone. Makes it easier. Plus, I think we’ve learned that two heads are better than one.” 

Harry flashes a small smile at that, ducking his head. “Remember what you said about me not putting my all into cases because I balance so many of them at a time?” 

Embarrassment and a tinge of shame color his cheeks. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, shaking his head. 

“No, no - you’re _right._ I don’t always put my all into a case,” he says. “I can’t afford to. Every instance feels like a blur, just one case after the other. I don’t get the chance to even enjoy it anymore.” He grimaces, face paling. “Not that I’m particularly enjoying this case.” 

“What? Me being hunted isn’t entertaining?” Louis says nonchalantly, the joke falling flat. 

“Definitely not,” Harry murmurs, looking at him with an intense expression.

Louis doesn’t know how to respond to that so he blurts out the question that’s been on his mind the whole evening. “What happened with you and Cameron?”

Harry stills, immediately grimacing. 

“Sorry, sorry, you don’t have to explain,” Louis rushes, feeling embarrassed. 

“No… it’s okay,” Harry decides, shaking his head. “Uh, we met when I needed a necromancy consultant for a spirit expulsion.” Spirit expulsions are incredibly rare - they only happen when a ghost has been deemed a threat to humankind which had to be verified in court, meaning Harry must’ve had to testify. “We became friends after that but…” He shakes his head. “The way Cameron talks and treats spirits. I don’t like it.” 

“What do you mean?” Louis asks. 

“I know technically mediumship is a form of necromancy but there’s a lot of differences in the communication I do with the dead and what Cameron does,” Harry says, frowning. “He doesn’t see ghosts as once being people - he sees them as creatures that he has control over. If he talked to them like I have in seances - if he tried to _understand_ them, maybe it’d be different, but he doesn’t. He seems perfectly content with how he does things now.” 

“Oh,” Louis breathes. “That’s shitty.” 

Harry glances at him, nodding. “It is,” he says, “but he is the only one I know who could help us.” He fixes Louis with an intense expression. “He can help _you._ And that’s all that matters.” 

Once again, Louis doesn’t know what to say. As if the universe has decided to take pity on him, a knock sounds at the door. “Pizza,” he says lamely. 

“I’ll get it,” Harry murmurs, getting up and leaving Louis alone in the living room. 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

After eating pizza and talking a bit more about anything and everything but what’s going on, they drift into the living room to watch TV. They share the couch this time, and Louis is sure it’s because Harry can sense Louis needs the proximity. There’s a mere six inches between their sides and Louis takes solace in that, trying not to react when Harry’s arm brushes his when he reaches for the remote. 

Normally, Louis likes to be in charge of what’s playing but for now he lets Harry find something, too distracted by the realization that it’s past nine o’clock now and while they may have time right now, eventually Harry’s going to want to sleep - eventually, he’s going to expect _Louis_ to sleep.

He never should have said anything about feeling tired. 

When Harry asks if they can watch Friends, trying to play innocent when in truth he _knows_ it’s one of Louis’ comfort shows, he just nods. 

Harry not only puts on _Friends_ \- he puts on one of Louis’ favorite episodes and Louis starts to think he might actually have an okay night. 

His eyes are still constantly darting around the room every few minutes, but the frequency and apprehension has decreased and he has Harry’s naturally safe presence to thank for it. He knows it’s stupid - to leech comfort from an ex-boyfriend especially when they’ve spent majority of the past couple of weeks arguing, but Louis thinks he can cut himself some slack considering the circumstances. 

After one episode, Harry picks another, ensuring at least another half an hour of stalling time. There’s been no strange noises or morphing temperatures since the others were over, but Louis knows better than to let his guard down. He brings his knees to his chest, 

The night drags on and Louis finds himself blinking back the fatigue creeping onto him. They’ve been watching TV for a while now and his eyes are practically burning from the bright screen and his severe lack of sleep over the past few days. A glance at his phone tells him it’s around 10:30. Now would be the time he’d be getting ready to go to bed but the thought of returning upstairs to the site of his almost-demise has him restless.

So he wills his eyes to stay open lest Harry notices his exhaustion and makes him sleep. 

However, it’s _Harry,_ which means he can see through the valiant facade right away. “You’re tired,” he says sternly. 

“Just a bit,” Louis fibs. “I want to finish the episode though.” 

Harry shoots him a pointed look. “What’s happened in it so far?” 

Taken off guard, Louis doesn’t even try to guess. He slumps back into the couch, ignoring Harry’s exasperation. “I don’t want to go to bed,” he whines. 

“ _Louis,”_ Harry says scoldingly. “You can’t just stay up every night.” When he sees Louis’ face, he continues, “You think I haven’t noticed? You look so drained every day and sometimes when we’re going over notes, you zone out like you only do when you’re exhausted.” 

He doesn’t deny it; Harry already knows. 

“I can’t go up there,” he murmurs instead, shaking his head. _I’m scared._

“You don’t have to,” Harry says. “Lay here with me.”

Exhaling quietly, Louis hesitates. If he sleeps, there’s a good chance he’s going to get a nightmare. In his sleep, there’s a good chance he could dream about Harry - forced to wake up and realize it was all just a figment of his imagination. In his sleep, nothing is certain. And yet… 

“Go to sleep, Lou,” Harry murmurs, eyes gentle when Louis glances at him. “I’ve got you.” 

He nods again, throat dry. His eyes flutter shut first, and then he’s curling up as best as he can on the couch, pulling his knees tighter to his chest and pressing his face into the back pillow. 

Sleep finds him quickly, and he reluctantly surrenders to its hold. 

The next time he wakes up, it’s dark. He’s shivering, letting out strained breaths of air and shrinking into himself. Flashes of his dream - of his _nightmare,_ dance over his vision and he cowers before them, feeling the familiar buzz grow in his veins as his magic sparks up again. 

Strong arms wrap around him, pulling him back down to the bed and instantly quenching the thrum. It registers that somewhere between falling asleep and waking up, he’s been moved back to the guest room. He’s held to a firm chest, immediately pushing his face into cotton fabric, feeling the warmth of Harry’s skin bleeding through it. 

“You’re okay,” that deep, _safe_ voice whispers, steady and solid. “You’re okay.” 

Louis squeezes his eyes shut, willing the wetness away. He nods into Harry’s shirt, exhaling when he feels a pressure on the top of his head. Harry’s lips. 

“Go to sleep, I’m here,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to Louis’ temple this time. 

He falls into unconsciousness slower this time, but a whole lot braver. 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

“Fuck,” Harry says, words poking through and scratching at Louis’ sleep-adled brain. 

Despite his nightmare, he once again received a decent night’s sleep, waking up content, if a little bit cold. No visits from demons either so he counts it a definite win. 

“Wassit?” he slurs when Harry doesn’t say anything else, scrunching his eyes tighter against the influx of light and nuzzling his face into the pillow. He can’t feel Harry holding him anymore which means the man has gotten up. “‘Arry?” he rasps. 

When he gets no reply, his eyes flutter open and he hesitantly sits up. 

It only takes him a few seconds to see it. 

Their board - their board that held every tidbit of information they had collected over the past few weeks - is destroyed. Not just broken and in pieces. It’s been completely obliterated, singed edges and charred wood. None of his and Harry’s handwriting can be seen. It’s a mess. 

“All of that information lost,” Harry says sadly. 

“No,” Louis shakes his head, grimacing at the sight. 

“It’s okay though - we don’t need it anymore. It’s fine,” Harry says, switching back into soothing-mode in seconds. 

“No, I took a picture of it the other day,” Louis rasps, throat dry. “So we still have all of it.” 

Harry looks relieved at that. “Good thinking, Lou.” He must notice that the reassurance hasn’t done much to ease Louis’ tension, because he asks more gently, “Are you alright?” 

Louis nods jerkily, not trusting himself to answer verbally. He can’t stop staring at the charred edges, ugly black streaks searing into his eyes. He shakes his head. _Be strong._

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” Harry says, looking hesitant as he holds his arms out. 

It’s a testament to how desperate he is for contact that he doesn’t even hesitate to fall into them, pressing his face to Harry’s shoulder and breathing in large mouthfuls of air in an effort not to cry. 

“Sorry,” he blurts, closing his eyes. 

“For what?” Harry asks, sounding distressed. He seems to hesitate a moment before placing a hand flat against Louis’ spine, grounding and warm. “None of this is your fault.”

“It’s just - all of this. It’s… so much. The noises and the breaking things and the trying to drain my energy in order to switch places… I’m _scared,”_ Louis says frustratedly. “And I shouldn’t be. I should be able to handle this - to be strong. Ghost hunters aren’t supposed to get scared.”

“That’s not true,” Harry says immediately. “Fear is a natural human reaction to the unknown. And to the dangerous. It’s normal to feel afraid. And it definitely doesn’t make you any less strong.” 

“You’re not,” Louis mumbles into Harry’s shirt. He says it quietly but Harry still hears, going rigid.

He pulls back slowly and grips Louis’ shoulders, disbelief in his eyes. “Of course I’m scared,” he says. “I’m terrified actually.”

Louis blinks at him, surprised.

“I can’t believe you thought - I was trying to be strong for _you.”_ Harry lets out a hoarse laugh, eyes wandering over Louis’ face as if cataloguing every inch of it. “You’re in danger - of course I’m scared,” he murmurs. “There’s a demon in our world and none of us have ever dealt with one before. And most of all, I’m powerless to help you.”

“Harry,” Louis breathes, heart squeezing in his chest. “You’ve been helping me this entire month. God, I’d - I’d be dead by now if it weren’t for you.”

The look on Harry’s face can only be described as pained. “Don’t say that,” he says roughly. 

“It’s the truth,” Louis insists, shaking his head. “It’s the truth and I can’t thank you enough.” He pauses and bites his lip. “I’m glad you’re here.” 

“Me too,” Harry whispers, gazing at him intently. “And I’ll be here as long as you need me.”

In that moment, as light is filtering in from the window and falling over Harry’s face, bathing him in warmth and highlighting the steadfast promise in his eyes, Louis is thinking, _why didn’t we work out?_

The thought takes him off guard, sinking into his senses and paralyzing him in place. He manages to school himself before Harry but he’s surprised the other man misses the sound of his heart pounding in his chest.

All he does is grin at Louis, oblivious and still holding Louis close - holds Louis the way he used to hold him when he was his. Grins the way he used to grin at him, wide and purely happy. 

“Do you want to make pancakes?” 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

Liam, Gigi, and Zayn come over in the afternoon to practice and stay till late. Louis smiles when Harry tells the group (barely managing to mask his own satisfaction) that Cameron won’t be able to make it. 

Gigi enlists all of them to help make dinner and Louis and her have way too much fun sending pots and pans and ingredients flying through the air while Harry, Liam, and Zayn talk about past cases at the kitchen table. 

When he’s not alone like this, it’s easy for Louis to feel light and content, all thoughts of demons and exorcisms out of his mind. He feels safe like this - happy. 

It’s strange to see Harry getting along with all of them too. He just _fits._ Talking to Liam, connecting with Zayn who doesn’t just warm up to anyone, and winning Gigi’s approval to the point where she pulls Louis aside to ask him, “Why did you break up with him again?” 

“It’s complicated,” he mumbles, feeling unsettled. 

Sensing his discomfort, she just nods and pats his shoulder. 

However, eventually, they all have to say goodbye. Gigi goes around and refreshes the warding spells with Louis and then Liam spends five minutes lecturing them to be careful and safe until Harry assures him they’ll be fine and that he’ll make sure of it. 

They portal out with last farewells and then he and Harry are alone in the house again. 

“Do you want to watch a film?” he asks shyly. It’s not too late yet and though he feels better about going to bed tonight, doesn’t mean he wants to go this early. 

Harry scratches the dark scruff on his chin before nodding. He hasn’t shaved in the past week or so and the beginnings of a mustache and a beard are showing on his face. The Harry Louis dated was rarely anything but bare-faced but he can’t say he’s too disappointed at the new change. “You pick, or me?” 

“Me,” Louis says and Harry rolls his eyes. 

“Of course,” he mutters, but he doesn’t look too bothered about it. 

It’s a bit chilly inside (not supernatural chilly, thank God) so Louis conjures some blankets and offers one to Harry who takes it gratefully. He settles on the couch as Louis wanders up to the cupboard where Niall keeps his DVDs. They could check Netflix but there’s just something about watching movies like this that Louis adores. It reminds him of days spent marathoning movies with his sisters when he was young. 

He glances back at Harry who’s scrolling through his phone, a thoughtful look on his face. Days spent watching old films together, cuddling and laughing into each other’s necks. 

“What’d you pick?” Harry asks when Louis stands up. The smile that blooms across his face when he holds up _The_ _Notebook_ shouldn’t make his heart flutter but it does. 

Louis stays quieter than he normally does when watching a movie, not even a scoff or wince breaking through his lips even at the most frustrating moments. 

Harry seems to notice his unusual silence, leaning over to murmur, “Alright?” 

“Just… thinking,” he says. 

“About what?” Harry asks. 

He shakes his head. “Nothing… just… the fighting in this movie kind of reminds me of us.” He glances at Harry who looks stunned and a bit offended, before backtracking. “Not exactly like us! Less toxic and harmful, for sure. Just - especially back when we first started working together.” 

“Well… it’s not like it came from malice,” Harry says, brows furrowing when he glances at Louis.

“It didn’t?” Louis asks, surprised. 

“No, of course not,” Harry says, frown growing. “I know I wasn’t nice to you, but I was just taken off of guard. That’s not really an excuse though, you’re right. I’m sorry.” 

_“Why_ did you act like that?” Louis asks. 

“I couldn’t help it,” Harry says, shrugging. 

Louis raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “You couldn’t help it? Acting like an asshole was just too overwhelming of an urge to resist?” 

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Harry says, rolling his eyes. 

“Then _what_ did you mean?” Louis pushes. “There’s pretty much only one way a person can take that and it’s -”

“It was too hard,” Harry exclaims. “It was too hard, okay?”

“Too hard to be a decent person?” Louis repeats flatly, brows raising even higher on his face.

“No,” Harry says, frowning. “Not - not that. Look, Louis, I’m sorry for acting like I did. You’re right - I was being shitty.” 

“I just want to know if you truly believe what you were saying,” Louis mumbles, feeling small and not in a good way. “About my ‘unpredictable magic’ and me being unqualified for this case.”

 _“No,”_ Harry interrupts, looking stricken. “I - God, Louis, of course not! I’m so sorry I made you think that.” 

“You were so against me staying at the house -”

“I didn’t want anything to happen to you,” Harry interrupts right away. They both grimace at the irony. “I was just worried about you,” he says, softer this time. 

Louis shakes his head. “Why didn’t you just say? Why couldn’t you be honest with me instead of making me think you didn’t trust me?”

“We weren’t exactly getting along,” Harry defends, shaking his head. “We couldn’t go a day without arguing -”

“Because you were being an arrogant asshole and belittling me at every second,” Louis snaps, irritation flickering inside him. 

Harry winces. “I’m sorry for that - I am, but… God, that’s what I’m saying - it was so hard to talk to you. And you didn’t make it easy - you said you didn’t even think we could be friends!” 

“You didn’t show me any evidence we could be!” Louis accuses. “This just sounds like a lot of shit, Harry.” 

“It hurt,” Harry blurts, looking frustrated. “Okay, it hurt. Interacting with you hurt. I couldn’t stop thinking and wishing and _remembering._ You broke my heart for fuck’s sake. I think some hostility was understandable - understandable, not justifiable, of course. God, this entire month has been so difficult.” 

Louis frowns. “But -”

“It _hurt_ to talk to you,” Harry continues, missing Louis’ words. He shakes his head. “So I was an ass. But that’s not an excuse so I’m _sorry._ But this has been so hard for me.” 

“It’s been hard for both of us,” Louis says, shaking his head. “I told you that a couple weeks ago, even.” 

Harry huffs out a laugh. “That’s just it, though - I think it’s been a bit harder for me.” He says it casually and a bit self-deprecating. 

“What exactly gives you that impression?” Louis asks, bristling at the cavalierness of it.

“Oh, I dunno, maybe just that I’ve had to work with you these past few weeks when I never got over you,” Harry says. 

He says it as if it goes without saying, but the words ring through the air and hit Louis like a blow to the chest. “What?” he says, choked, rooted to the spot. Harry just stares at him, confused. “What did you say?” 

“Don’t tell me you can’t see it,” Harry says, sounding disbelieving. 

Louis just stares, feeling the ground fall out from beneath him. “You -”

“You broke up with me,” Harry says, the angry furrow between his brows deepening. “You broke up with me and I never got over it. I _can’t_ get over it. That’s why this is so hard - what did you think?” 

“But,” Louis says helplessly, mind racing for a rational explanation as his heart thunders in his ears. 

“And it’s easier when I didn't have to see you everyday - when I could just pretend you don’t exist and that the gaping hole in my heart is nothing but a dull wound. But these past few weeks I couldn’t pretend. You were _everywhere._ Being snarky and petty, looking pretty, cooking me dinner. I couldn’t handle it.” Harry sounds pained and pissed off, gazing at Louis with so much emotion in his eyes. 

“What are you saying?” Louis asks, voice weak. 

Harry lets out a hoarse laugh and time slows. “I’m saying that I’m still in love with you. Jesus Christ, Louis. Are you really that oblivious?” 

“No, that’s - you can’t,” Louis denies, feeling like the air has been knocked out of his lungs. 

“I am,” Harry says. “Fuck, I am. And I hate that I am but maybe a little bit less now. Because I think you feel the same.” 

“I - What?” Louis sputters. His eyes widen as Harry takes a step forward. 

“You feel the same,” he repeats, and there’s no trace of cockiness or arrogance in his voice, just pure steadfast belief. “You regret it as much as I do.” 

“I don’t,” Louis says, shaking his head. Maybe he should have seen it coming, but he’s so taken off guard. So blown away. “This - this is crazy. Harry, we _broke up.”_

“We did, yeah,” Harry says, sounding unfazed. “But our story still isn’t over, Louis. It’s never been over. You can’t tell me you don’t agree.” 

Louis just gawks at him. “You’re doing it again,” he says. “The asshole thing.” He turns away pointedly. “Maybe it’s time for bed.” 

“You can’t just keep walking away from your problems,” Harry says, words cutting straight through his skin. “You can’t keep _giving up.”_

“I didn’t give up,” Louis hisses, head snapping back around. 

“You gave up on us,” Harry counters. 

“I did not,” Louis scowls. “We didn’t work out, Harry. Things were good for a while, true, but that faded away. We didn’t fit anymore. I did what you didn’t have the courage to do. And it was what was best for us.” 

Harry scoffs. “Bullshit. What’s best for me was _you._ It’s always been.” 

“We didn’t work,” Louis shakes his head, before clenching his fists. “I’m not talking about this anymore.” 

“Fine, just let me ask you this,” Harry says, brows furrowing and lips flattening into a thin line. “Why haven’t you dated anyone since we broke up?” 

Louis stills, words hardening in his mind. “What’re you talking about?” he asks after a moment, feeling off-centered.

“I was talking to Liam today at dinner and he said you haven’t dated anyone since me,” Harry says, taking another step closer. “Why?” 

“I’ve been with other people,” Louis says after a beat, careful to keep his tone even and dismissive.

“That’s not what I said,” Harry says slowly. His eyes are bright green in the dim room, burning with a firm conviction. “I’ve been with other people too. But I haven’t dated anyone. And neither have you. Why.” 

It doesn’t sound like a question, because he thinks he already has the answer. Louis swallows, keeping his gaze averted. “I like being single,” he lies. 

Harry scoffs. “Bullshit.”

Annoyance flares up in Louis’ chest and he scowls. Who does Harry think he is? Dropping these bombs on him unprepared and then having the nerve to be so flippant about Louis’ denials. “You don’t know anything,” he snaps. 

“I know you don’t like being single,” Harry says, raising an eyebrow. He takes yet another step forward and this time, Louis takes one back. “You’re too needy -”

“Excuse me!” Louis exclaims, eyes bulging. 

“You’re too needy,” Harry repeats, brows furrowing. “You _thrive_ under attention. You always want cuddles but most of the time you don’t want to ask for them. You want someone to listen when you speak and someone to entertain you when you aren’t. You want someone to call you pet names and hold you when you sleep. You want someone who’ll take care of you and spoil you.” It comes out like an accusation. 

“And what?” Louis hisses, defensive. “You’re the only person who can do that?” 

“I’m not the only one who can do that, but I’m the only one who gets to,” Harry says simply. Like it goes without saying. 

Now Louis scoffs, ignoring the erratic pace of his heart pounding in his chest. “You don’t get to do anything,” he says fiercely. “You’ve got no right.” 

“I do have a right,” Harry denies, taking another step forward. Louis doesn’t move this time, rooted to the spot. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that you’ve let someone else do all those things. Who else takes care of you like I used to? Like I _have_ been doing this whole month?”

“You haven’t -”

“Not in the same way as then, but it’s still true,” Harry refutes. “Who else knows you like I do? When to hover and when to give you space? How to calm you down and rile you up? Who else can take care of you as well as I can?” 

“Stop it,” Louis whispers. 

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Tell me you don’t want me.” 

Louis exhales. “I don’t…” He trails off, swallowing roughly. 

“You don’t _what?”_ Harry goads. 

“What’re you trying to do?” Louis asks, wrapping his arms around his body and turning away. 

“I’m just trying to understand how we went from what we had to _this,”_ Harry says slowly. He’s frowning, a deep furrow between his brows as he looks at Louis with a mixture of exasperation and regret. “God, Louis. It was always supposed to be you and me.” 

“No,” Louis shakes his head, but his heart pangs with agreement. “We broke up, Harry. It’s over - it’s _been_ over.” 

“Tell it to my face,” Harry says after a moment, tone softer but still firm. 

Louis turns around slowly, breath catching when he sees the pain and unadulterated hope on Harry’s face. It’d be so easy to break the space between them and fall into Harry’s arms again, but he can’t. Memories of the last few weeks of their relationship - of the arguments and the distance and the lack of communication, of the _pain_ when he realized things weren’t the same as they used to be and never would be again - replay in his head until he feels dizzy. 

“We’re too stubborn,” Louis says slowly. “We’re both too stubborn and hot-headed and neither of us communicate properly. We would have never worked out.” 

Harry shakes his head. “None of that matters.”

“It does though,” Louis says, voice hollow. He blinks rapidly, feeling wetness in his eyes that matches the wetness in Harry’s. “We clash too much. We don’t get along properly. It’s _over.”_

The way Harry’s face contorts from hurt to anger is heartbreaking. “Once again, you’re giving up,” he mutters. “I shouldn’t have expected anything less.” 

Louis doesn’t even reply. Harry is being mean again but this time he knows he doesn’t mean it. He can see the tear that falls down his cheek. The tension in his shoulders. The heartbreak in the draw of his brows and the purse of his lips. 

He looks at Louis with an unreadable expression, as if waiting for him to take it back. Louis’ lips remain sealed shut and eventually Harry just sighs. 

“Alright then,” he says, and he sounds so _tired._ “I guess it really didn’t mean that much to you, but it was my whole world.” Then he walks right past Louis who flinches even though they don’t touch. 

Moments later he hears the telltale thumps of someone walking up the stairs, steps short and angry. 

“It did,” Louis rasps wetly to the now empty room, minutes too late. 

When he finally gains the courage to go upstairs and enter the guest room, Harry is already in bed, on his side at the edge of the bed with his eyes shut. 

Louis grabs his pajamas and changes in the bathroom, throat dry and heart contracting painfully. His hands shake as he puts way too much toothpaste on his brush, but the burn of mint in his mouth is nothing in comparison to the burn he feels in his eyes. He pads back into the room hesitantly, waiting for a reaction that never comes. 

Swallowing, he gets into bed as quietly as possible. His hands curl into the blanket, body rigid and tense. He licks his lips, the silence oppressive on his anxious mind. “I’m sorry,” he whispers after a moment, eyes darting to Harry’s back. 

Harry doesn’t respond, not that Louis expected him to. He resigns himself to the distance, knowing he’ll have to get through the night alone this time. Somehow, the demon after him seems less threatening than being ignored. 

To make matters worse, a loud thud sounds in the room and he stiffens. Great.

He lays there completely on edge, nearly jumping when Harry suddenly rolls over in bed. His eyes are still shut but he opens his arms, a wordless invitation.

Louis takes it, relief crawling up his throat as he presses his wet face into Harry’s chest. Harry holds him tightly and the tension leaves his body in seconds. He, however, stays rigid. It’s clear by the set in his jaw and his lack of usual soothing that things are far from okay between them. 

But in the dark, those issues don’t exist. In the dark, Harry will indulge him and let Louis lean on him. By the morning, Louis knows it’ll be back to the cold shoulder but for now, he’ll take what he can get. 

For the first time since he was imprinted, Louis might prefer the dark. 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

The week passes slowly. 

While they haven’t resorted back to the resentment that prospered at the beginning of the month, things are still tense between them. They spend nights wrapped together and days pretending like it never happened. Louis doesn’t know how to handle this wedge that’s grown between them, doesn’t know how to handle the feelings he had buried so deep come crawling up through the ground. 

It’s not to say that they don’t speak to each other. They do. Soft conversations in the morning, unsure laughter at the dinner table, comfortable silence while watching TV, golden gratitude when Louis cooks Harry’s favorite for dinner, joking around when Zayn, Liam, and Gigi come over to practice. Cameron only stops back one more time and his visit is brief much to both of their reliefs. 

Harry is still always there to make sure he’s okay and safe when the noises come back and the temperature drops or when there’s blood smeared across the wall and the darkness tries to sink its claws into Louis’ tender flesh, holding none of his hurt or anger over Louis’ head when he needs him. 

It’s almost as if he’s trying to be Louis’ friend. 

The realization renders him speechless when it comes to his head. Once again, Harry Styles has left him unbelievably confused. But he takes everything Harry is giving gratefully. 

They go on walks every evening too because Louis feels like he’s going to go stir-crazy being stuck in that house 24/7. They say hello to the neighbors and even go back and visit Mrs. Sawyers who’s ecstatic to hear of their ‘reconciliation.’

“You two have something special,” she had said. “It’d be stupid to throw it away.” 

Louis tries not to think too hard about it. There’s been an ache in his chest since he turned Harry away and it’s gotten worse with the friendship realization, but he hasn’t allowed himself to consider why that may be. He’s too vulnerable right now. Harry is _here_ and protective and amazing and it’s much too confusing and convoluting for him to try and interpret now. So he distracts himself as much as he can. 

He finds himself pulling out his spellbook and practicing simple incantations and charms when Harry’s in the shower or working out in the garage with Niall’s at-home equipment. It’s not like he’s embarrassed about it or anything - he just doesn’t want Harry to think he’s doing this because of anything he said. If anything, he’s doing it for himself. With every successful casted spell or brewed potion with no mishaps, he feels a little bit stronger. He needs that strength right now - the quiet but confident kind. 

But even though time passes slowly, it still passes. Soon it’s the 24th and their exorcism appointment hangs over heads like a layer of fog drifting in from the horizon, looming over their heads in a murky gloom, inescapable. 

They don’t do much the entire day. Louis reluctantly accepts Harry’s offer to do some yoga in the front yard. Harry coaches him through basic positions and then they meditate for half an hour, finding solace in inner peace. Some of the neighbors taking a stroll stop to ask Harry questions about what they’re doing and Louis takes the time to go inside and up to the guest room where he clears his throat and starts talking. 

“Hey, Venus,” he says, voice scratchy and unsure as it fills the room. “I don’t know if you can hear this but familiars are supposed to have such a powerful connection with their witches that it can transcend all barriers so… here’s hoping?” He pauses again, feeling stupid for a second before pushing through. “I don’t blame you for running - I know fiends are an uncomfortable topic for your kind and it was unsettling for you to be here. I’m actually glad that you’re probably safe and sound in your homeworld and I hope you’re not getting too grouchy without my cuddles… I also hope you come back soon. I miss you, uh, a _lot._ The demon is trying to switch places with me but we’re going to do everything we can to get rid of it. I think… I think it’s going to work, sweet girl.” 

He stops again, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I’m scared,” he admits, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I’m scared and even though it’s less than it used to be, it’s still there. I don’t think it’ll go away until the demon is gone… but you know what? That’s okay. Because I'm still strong. I _feel_ strong. With Gigi and Zayn and Liam by my side… With Harry.” He shakes his head. “Anyways, the point is, take care of yourself. Be just as strong as I am while we’re apart. And I hope to see you soon. Um… bye.” 

Sighing, he turns back to the door and immediately freezes. Harry is standing in the doorframe, a soft expression on his face. Color floods his cheeks. “Uh -”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Harry says, smiling gently. “The bond witches have with their familiars is honestly really beautiful.” He clears his throat. “I think she’ll come back very soon.”

Louis nods. “Thank you.”

After cooking lunch, Louis cycles through reading, reorganizing Niall’s messy kitchen cabinets, and wandering the house aimlessly. Harry seems just as restless, a blank expression on his face as he catches up with American football (something Louis will never understand). 

All too soon, the clock ticks to 7:10 and Gigi, Zayn, and Liam arrive in the living room via portal. Like Louis and Harry, they’re all dressed in Department-sanctioned clothes, resistant to fire, water, and ectoplasm. 

None of them speak for a bit until Liam breaks the silence with, “How’s everyone feeling?” 

They all try to speak at the same time and then break off, chuckling awkwardly. Everyone is tense, a staticky layer of apprehension buzzing around them and sticking to their skin. 

In twenty minutes, the Hunter’s Moon will be at the highest point in the sky which means the barrier between worlds will be the thinnest. However, they’ve decided to go down five minutes earlier so Gigi can cast the spell as quickly as possible and then banish the fiend back to its world. All of them will be done there for support except for Liam who’ll stay above ground just in case. 

Everyone feeling the time tick by, they spread out to do their various preparation rituals. Zayn slides on his earbuds and closes his eyes, listening to classical music. Gigi sits cross-legged in the middle of the room as portals flicker in and out around her in tune to her every breath. 

Harry’s ritual is something Louis is very familiar with. He stretches and then does sit-ups. The number depends on how much time he has but he’s always done them. Louis watches him disappear back into the garage where he can have some privacy. 

Louis himself has never had a set ritual but he joins Liam, who isn’t even going down, in pacing through the hallway. They don’t speak for a bit until Liam clears his throat, glancing at him. 

“Harry said that you did most of the figuring out for the whole case,” he says lightly. “Good job.” 

“He did?” Louis blurts, before shaking his head. “Thanks,” he says, trying not to blush. 

“I’m not surprised though,” Liam says. “You’ve always been the best at research and thinking outside of the box.”

“Oh,” Louis says, blinking in surprise. “Really?” 

“Yeah, really,” Liam says, shooting him an amused look. “I’m glad you and your clever mind are on the team.” 

The words repeat in his head over and over and he stops short “I - thanks, Liam,” Louis says, stunned. 

“Why do you sound so surprised?” Liam asks confusedly, stopping as well. 

“I just… it never felt like you had fully accepted me onto the team,” Louis reveals, shrugging. 

Liam looks at him incredulously. “Louis! Of course I have! We all have - you’re such a valuable part of the business and I’m so glad Zayn introduced you to us.”

“Really?” Louis asks, unable to help himself. “Even without a witchmark?”

“Yes, really,” Liam says, before frowning. “Did you really think I didn’t? A witchmark isn’t a measure of worth for witches, Louis, you know that. You have magic either way and you’re a _witch_ either way.” He pauses before adding, “Is this about how Gigi and I had been concerned? Because that was entirely because of the weird aura I read and the scrutiny from the Council. It had nothing to do with you, seriously.” 

Louis just stares, surprised and a bit relieved. “Thanks.. thank you for clarifying,” he says. “I’m glad Zayn introduced me too. And that you guys let me join. It’s… I love doing what we do and I’m so grateful for all of it.” 

Maybe Louis was wrong. Maybe Liam’s never actually shown any signs of not trusting Louis completely and he’s just been projecting his feeling of inadequacy onto dissatisfaction from his teammates. All this time, he’s been underestimating himself. 

“We’re grateful for _you,”_ Liam says empathetically. Louis smiles, ducking his head. 

When they resume the pacing, Louis feels a lot more content than he expected to. 

However, all too soon Gigi is yelling for them to come back, saying it’s time. Harry comes back down from upstairs and they all gather at the sliding door. Zayn is the one to open it, the familiar squeak grating against their eyes as they step out into the yard. 

The sky is pale blue, shades of gray and yellow swirling through with the moon big and bright at the helm. Louis focuses on it for a second, letting the stark white sear into his eyes. It’s commonly accepted that witches have a strong tie to the moon - that the moon goddess had once been a witch and now she watches over all of prosperity in her steadfast glory. 

Liam prompts him to point out where the doorway had been before and he gestures to the ground, memories of the patio opening up and the tug in his chest propelling him to go down where he was imprinted filling his head. They circle around it quietly. 

In the end, there’s only so much time that can be wasted. An owl hoots nearby and it snaps them into action. 

“When you’re ready,” Liam says, nodding at Gigi who steels her face, raising a single hand in the air in preparation of creating the portal.

She mutters the incantation under her breath, the words sounding harsh and grating against Louis’ ears - fitting the scenario, he supposes. 

And then just like that, the ground is opening up beneath them. The rumbling feels less eerie this time, patio cracking and splintering similar to the way it did last week. Soon, they’re standing at the edge of a doorway, a halo of red - of _Gigi_ and _safe_ \- pulsing around it. 

They all stare at it for a moment and Louis shivers when he feels the tug at his insides. The temperature drops in seconds, a wave of frigid air washing over him. Except, not just him this time. Everyone shudders in unison, all feeling the sinister presence coming out to play.

The demon knows they’re here and is not concerned in the slightest. They’re hungry for energy and Louis realizes with horror that he’s bringing them enough food for eternity. His stomach churns, but he takes a deep breath and stands strong. 

Gigi glances at him. “Do you want to do the honors?”

Louis exhales. Every time they discussed it, Gigi had been the one was decided to do this part - and every part, he supposes. Still, he nods jerkily. If anything goes wrong, Harry is right beside him and ready to ground him. 

He conjures a ladder - a less flimsy one from the garage that he and Harry had found a few days ago - and it hits the ground with a thump. Zayn grips it first, glancing back at all of them nervously before steadying himself and climbing down.

“Stay safe,” Liam murmurs as his head disappears below the earth. 

After him, Gigi goes and then Harry is looking at him, a silent request for him to go first. Louis nods.

For a second, as Harry’s head disappears below Earth and Louis is left standing above with Liam, he feels that tremor of fear and anticipation burn inside him, a frisson of heat growing stronger with every second. 

But he takes a deep breath and grips the first rung. It feels sturdy and solid in his hands. Eyes darting around to the empty backyard and latching onto Liam who gives him an encouraging look, he slowly begins climbing down and into the pocket dimension. 

It feels like only a second goes by between him putting his foot on the ladder and him stepping off, feeling the ground shift and sink beneath his feet. The darkness is back - bigger and more ominous than ever. 

He realizes after a second that he's completely alone. Not only that, but a glance up confirms that the ladder and the doorway are missing. They’re stuck down here. Even the reassurance of the angelic blade he has in his pocket is meek. 

Fear crawls up his throat but squeezes his eyes shut and takes another deep breath, fumbling for some semblance of calm as the shadows writhe and contort around him. His brain has gone fuzzy too, thoughts slowing and limbs feeling weighed down and lethargic. None of them brought blasters down because they want the demon to show itself, not push it away, but Louis wishes in this moment that they had. “Guys?” he calls out, words hoarse and timid as a sudden rush of wind howls in his ears, making him shiver. 

“Louis!” Gigi. 

Stumbling towards the voice, he wills his magic to the tips of his fingers and lets the light in. Rays of golden shoot from his hands and the shadows recoil, hissing. 

Gigi appears out of nowhere, grabbing his shoulders and digging her nails into his shoulders. “Jesus, _fuck,_ this demon is stronger than I thought.” 

“Where’s the others?” Louis asks, but then Zayn is bursting from the cluster of gloom, panting and heaving. 

“Almost got suffocated,” he wheezes, bracing his hands on his knees. “Jesus Christ.” 

Louis and Gigi each produce balls of light in their hands - self-made torches. They peer around, waiting for either Harry or the fiend to make an appearance. 

The longer nothing happens, the more worried Louis gets. He wills Harry to appear, stomach churning with anxiety and panic when the darkness doesn’t part. The thought of something happening to Harry - to beautiful, lovely, protective, and caring Harry… 

If -

The loud sigh of relief that slips from his lips as Harry materializes next to them with a look of confusion on Louis’ face is entirely accidental, but he can’t find it in himself to feel self-conscious when Harry is here and present. 

His eyes are roaming frantically, stopping abruptly when they land on Louis. He isn’t sure, but he thinks there’s pure relief flashing amidst the green. 

“Wait a second,” Gigi says, narrowing her eyes. “How do we make sure this isn’t some sort of illusion and we’re all actually ourselves?”

They all glance at each other, suspicion growing. 

Louis remembers the dark energy’s reaction to light so he holds it up to Gigi first, already knowing it won’t do anything because she’s also got light flickering in her palms. It’s not angelic light so it can’t physically affect the darkness, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t disgust them. 

He does Harry who’s slipped close beside him sometime in the past minute, relieved when he doesn’t even flinch. Gigi beckons Zayn closer and he approaches warily. In a matter of seconds, Gigi holds the light close to his body and he recoils, letting out a pained yowl. 

Heart in his throat, Louis scrambles back. Zayn’s body arches, arms flinging back and head tipping up as darkness froths at his lips, spilling out onto his chin and down his neck as they watch in horror. The shadows rush towards him like a magnet, curling around his limbs as his silhouette grows bigger and bigger. 

“Fucking hell,” Harry whispers next to him. 

Gigi is frozen in place, hands still outstretched like she’s trying to reach out for Zayn and mouth agape. She looks pale and Louis can’t stop thinking that everything is horribly wrong. 

“Spell!” he yells at her, shuddering as goosebumps prickle across his skin. “Gigi, the spell!” 

She snaps out of it then, hands raising into the first position, but it’s too late. 

A loud roar cracks through the air, flinging them backwards. Louis screams, feeling that sinister tug in his chest, a phantom hand curling around his heart and squeezing. His magic flickers and he tries to harness it, pushing out blindly. 

Gigi is screaming too - fighting against the shadows swirling around her, wrapping tighter and tighter. And then suddenly she’s _gone._

“Two down, that’s not good,” Harry says, side pressed to Louis’ like he wants to make sure he’s there. 

“And Gigi’s not here,” Louis murmurs panickedly. “That means -”

Before he can finish, a sharp stabbing pain erupts in his ribs, the same spot he had been injured last time. He cries out, knees buckling. Harry catches him, hand clasping his and enveloping it. 

“You have to do it,” he says urgently. “Louis, you have to do it -”

“I _can’t,”_ Louis says, whimpering when the throbbing grows stronger, spreading across his abdomen and clawing up his lungs until every breath stings. “Harry, I can’t -”

“You can,” Harry says firmly. “Lou, you can do it. Just believe in yourself, goddammit.” 

He opens his mouth to protest again, but ends up gasping. It feels like he’s being burned alive, energy draining from his skin and magic impossibly dormant. 

The shadows twist closer, contorting faster and faster as a figure begins to take form. 

**_Louis Tomlinson…_** He squeezes his eyes shut. _No._ But he can’t fight it - can barely even move. His eyes water and the smell of smoke and ashes fill his nose. 

In a split second, Harry’s hand disappears from his and he goes rigid, the darkness washing over him and pulling him in. 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

Terror. 

Pure and raw terror is all he can focus on. Except, as he flexes his fingers and finds his footing, he realizes that it’s not his own terror. 

He’s standing in an unfamiliar room. There’s not much to it - just a desk and a chair and some worn out floral wallpaper. It’s freezing cold. The room smells like incense. But none of those details are important except the last. 

A middle-aged man is kneeling in the center of the room, surrounded by candles whose flames burn bright. He can’t be over fifty but his shoulders slumped and his hands gnarled from years of hard work. There’s lines on his face - happy ones and weary ones. But right now there’s also terror. 

He’s got his hands clasped before him and that’s when Louis sees it. The seared mark on his forearm that’s quickly growing darker and darker, scorching through weary, cracked skin. 

The mark of someone who’s made a deal with a demon. 

As if summoned by the thought, a surge of darkness manifests itself in the air, pulsing and writhing into itself. The candles are snuffed out, blanketing the room in darkness. 

Louis blinks against it frustratedly. He has no idea what’s going on but he knows he needs to see. And just like that, a pair of glowing red eyes appear - wholly unnatural and terrifying. He stiffens, paralyzed in place and his entire body screaming _monster._

When it speaks, it’s not aloud but Louis can still feel it in his bones. 

**_I’m here to collect my dues. I hope you have not disappointed, human._ **

The man - Alastair Howards - is frozen still, but the air grows even more frigid and he nods a second later. “I am ready,” he says. 

**_An entire mortal life,_** the demon says, voice (if one could call it that) like sandpaper. **_Hold out your hands._**

 _A mortal life,_ Louis mouths, lips chapped. That’s what Alastair had traded for crops and saving his family: his own life. 

Alastair is shaking - Louis can’t see, but he can feel it, feel his terror. But there’s a flicker of something else there too. 

Something that grows stronger as Alastair holds his hands out and a sudden flash of pure light slashes through the darkness. 

Louis gasps as the demon screeches, rearing back as if stung. 

Angelic light. Alastair got ahold of _angelic light._ He stumbles to his feet, still shaking. There’s strength in his eyes though - strength and determination. “Be gone, Devil!” he cries, pulling out the weapon and plunging it into the fiend’s torso. 

The beast howls in pain, crumpling down. It won’t last forever though, and Louis realizes what Alastair is doing even before he pulls the portalstone out of the folds of his coat. It’s ruby red, buzzing with witch energy. Flashes of memories dance in Louis’ eyes - Alastair feeling desperate and reading about supernatural methods of help when it became clear mortal wasn’t enough. Alastair making the deal with the demon, easily bargaining his own life if it meant his wife and their child on the way would be okay. Alastair naively enjoying the splendor of plentiful crops and a happy family, realizing there’s some things he can’t just give up.

Alastair’s one year death sentence ticking down, his mark growing darker as the end draws near. Weeks of research and looking for anyone who can help. Finding help from a local witch who gave him the portalstone. Spending a chunk of his savings on angelic light, the only weapon said to harm a fiend. Sleepless night after sleepless night spent making a plan. 

The demon roars, but it’s too late. He disappears with the darkness and the sun rises in Tennifield and on Alastair’s life. Louis can feel the pure relief and joy radiating from Alastair, the naive belief that the nightmare was finished and he was finally _free._

However, there’s only two ways to banish a demon… and this isn’t one of them. 

Louis cries out as his ribs explode with pain again, eyes squeezing shut and head throbbing. He feels like he’s being crushed at all angles, organs and cells pressing into each other as he struggles to breathe. 

Another memory solidifies in his mind. Alastair Howards being haunted by the demon that was never sent away. Alastair Howards growing paranoid and unhappy, no longer going outside because whenever he went too far from the house, he felt faint. 

Alastair Howards hearing sounds and voices throughout the day, feeling like he’s lost his mind. Shivering as the air goes cold and shadows at the edge of his vision. Blood dripping on walls. Exhaustion. Fear. _Misery._

It all was too much - his will dwindled with every passing day until Shannon asks if they can go and see her parents one weekend and Alastair tells her to go on with the kids and without him. 

On August 16th, 1958, as the clock ticked to midnight, Alastair Howards took his wife’s sharpest kitchen blade and locked himself in the study where no one could witness his struggle come to a close.

Louis feels like he’s going to throw up, fighting against the phantom limbs holding him in place. Suddenly, the pain is back again and in tenfold, slashing through his clothes and tearing into his tender flesh. He screams and kicks and sobs brokenly as the world shifts around him and once again, everything goes black. 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

There’s a fire. 

That’s the first thing he realizes upon gaining his bearings. He can feel the ash coating the air, heavy and suffocating. His eyes flicker open and he freezes as angry flames lick up the walls around him. 

He’s still the old Howards’ house study.

And it’s burning down before his eyes. 

The memories are like jagged shards of glass against his mind but he grasps at them anyway, needing to _know_ and see for himself. 

He freezes as they overtake him - all tinged in unabashed _hunger._ After Alastair’s wife and the kids left, the demon was left with no one to feed from, desperation leading the way to anger and vengeance. 

Clueless and unsuspecting teenagers hung out on the property, unaware of the energy being drained from their mortal bodies as they smoked cigarettes and broke windows to get into the mysterious house. 

The demon was smart - he _waited._ He waited as he slowly siphoned energy from these mortals and he bided his time until he had enough strength. And then, in the middle of the night on October 4th, 2008, he was able to commit his first physical act. 

Burning the house down himself. 

Louis watches with wet eyes as the smoke grows thicker and the flames burn through the flimsy wood. The only thing he can think of is that this old study where a fiend was summoned, a deal made and then broken, and a life lost, is roughly in the same spot as Niall’s master bedroom in the present day. 

Once again, he finds himself crumpling from the sudden flare of pain, darkness consuming him yet again. **_Give in to it_** says the monster inside him, arguably more dangerous than the monster trying to kill him. 

He doesn’t give in. 

With a guttural scream, he channels all his magic and conjures as much light as he can. It’s bright and glaring, pulsing bigger and bigger and rendering him blind. 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

It takes him a second to realize he’s been yanked into a different memory. His heart drops at the knowledge before the scene registers and he notices that the air feels less oppressive than the other times. A gasp falls from his lips when he realizes where he is. 

The purple sofa he’s sat on many times, the admittedly ugly rug on the floor, and the three figures sitting in a circle on top of it. The first is Perrie - back when she had her dyed hair cropped short, eyes flickering around nervously. 

His gaze shifts to the second: himself. A few years younger with a layer of skepticism in his features (and also, looking back on it, a tinge of fear). 

And third: _Harry._

This is May 14th, 2016 - the day they met. Harry’s got his seance-face on, eyes shut and jaw set as he murmurs to the ghost haunting Perrie’s flat. 

Her name had been Emily. She died in a car accident and couldn’t move on. After a week of Harry helping her come to terms with it, she passed on to the afterlife and Perrie was free to sleep through the night again without the spirit causing a ruckus. 

And… Louis accepted the medium’s request to take him on a date. 

His eyes burn as he watches their past selves wait quietly. It hits him then how happy he and Harry had been through their whole relationship - how _right_ it felt from the very start. It had been ugly in the end, of course, but in comparison to all the good times, it feels like nothing but a whisper. 

The memory blurs and suddenly he’s standing somewhere else and staring at another past version of himself. This one is sitting on the floor of Zayn’s flat, a nervous but hopeful expression on his face as Zayn asks him to consider joining the team. 

It disappears faster this time. The next memory is his first case with Gigi - the nervousness he felt around the other, more accomplished witch and how they had slowly bonded and gotten to know each other as they got deeper into the case. They were officially friends by the time they discovered the phoenix living in the shed of Greg James’ house that had been sneaking out during the night and leaving scorch marks all over the place in its quest for food. 

He watches his past self cradle the small creature in his hands, an expression of pure wonder in his eyes as he watches the magnificent bird spread its flaming wings. When the case ends up being a creature that isn’t a ghost and isn’t something they can handle themselves, they call the Department to take care of it. 

The memory begins fading right as the Department official takes the majestic creature out of Louis’ arms and his past self pouts. 

Next, he sees _Niall._ The man being shown the new house by a realtor, gaping at the affordable price as he looks around and begins imagining the life he’s going to have here. It flashes forward to Niall moving in, still so happy and unaware of the evil lurking on the land - of the monster watching him carefully. 

Niall is just a human. So was Alastair. They were both just innocent humans with big hopes and dreams. And this demon came in and ruined them all. Alastair was driven to his demise and if Niall had been less paranoid and brushed off his observations and strange feelings (if he had been someone who didn’t believe or was against the paranormal) one day he would have been too. 

The thought makes Louis sick, but it also makes him angry. 

He thinks about Liam telling him he’s a valuable part of their team, of Harry telling him he gave up on trying to get his witchmark and earlier that he can cast the spell if he tries. He thinks about that feeling of inadequacy that’s been festering inside him for most of his life. 

And then, he lets it go. 

His eyes flutter shut but this time he isn’t yanked away. He sinks into the darkness willingly. He lets it engulf him, curling tightly around his limbs and seeping into his skin. He waits as the scene fades away completely and he materializes back in the present. He waits as those glinting red eyes appear before him and the demon takes shape. 

**_The fight has dripped out of you, human. It always does. Your kind is_ ** **nothing** **_compared to me._ **

Louis keeps his mouth shut, teeth cutting into his bottom lip. He thinks of Harry, and Zayn, Gigi, and Liam. He thinks of Venus and the Hunter’s Moon shining down on them from the sky. He thinks of all that and harnesses every bit of magic buzzing in his body, and sets it loose. 

_My name is Louis Tomlinson and I am not afraid._

Light cuts through the darkness, hisses and angry screeches following. The demon rears back but recovers quickly. It doesn’t matter though, because Louis is already raising his hands. The memory of Cameron and Gigi practicing the incantation fills his mind and his body moves automatically, movements quick and deft. When he speaks, he sounds confident and sure and _strong._

He may not know Latin but he says every word with force, letting it punch through the dark. The demon shrinks back, realizing what’s being done. Before it can retaliate, it’s too late. The beast goes slack, falling to its haunches. 

When Louis ends his spell with the question, the monster gives its veri nominis, or true name, with no hesitation. He may just be a flicker in the dark compared to the power of a demon, but he can still burn right through him. 

With the utterance of its name, Louis now has complete power over the fiend, their link pulsing between them like a living thread. The first thing he asks for is his friends. 

Harry, Zayn, Gigi, and even Liam emerge from the shadows, disoriented and confused. They gape when they see the demon on its knees, head bowed for mercy. 

“Gigi,” Louis prompts, voice ragged. “Portal.”

She blinks, before nodding jerkily. She says the incantation hurriedly, a doorway opening up beside them, pulsing in hazy red. He can see nothing but darkness on the other end - the demon world. 

Louis wills the fiend to stand up, averting his gaze from the grotesque features and glowing eyes as they are revealed by the light. The others are dead silent as they watch the beast stumble through the opening. 

Gigi snaps the portal shut and they all exhale. “You did it,” she says. 

Finally allowing his fearless exterior to crumble, Louis exhales. “Please get us out of here.” 

The next portal Gigi opens is above them and he shakily conjures the only other ladder he knows of from his friend Luke’s garage, wondering what happened to the other two and whether he’ll have to get Niall and his parents replacements. 

Liam goes up first, crouching on the ground to help Gigi and then Zayn up. Harry gestures for Louis to go first this time and he can’t refuse, a desperation creeping into his body as he rushes up the ladder and back above the ground. 

The first breath of fresh air feels like the best reward, pure and warm into his lungs. He takes a breath and closes his eyes, letting the cool - but not paranormal cool - air chill the sweat on his skin and quell the quiver in his fingers. 

“What happened?” Liam asks, turning to Louis. 

He opens his mouth to respond but then Zayn is gripping his shoulder, sensing his reluctance. “We can discuss everything tomorrow. It’s ten thirty and I’m starving so let’s order some pizza and call it a night.” 

_Ten thirty._ Louis’ heart lurches. He was down there for three hours. _But it’s over,_ he tells himself. It’s finally over. 

Louis glances at Harry for the first time since they got out, not even flinching when he sees that Harry is already staring at him intently. His hair is a mess and there’s a cut on his cheek from who knows what but he’s alive and uninjured and Louis is so so glad. There’s also a distinct expression of hesitation on his face. 

“Can I just -” he says, breaking off and looking frustrated. He seems to make up his mind though because then he’s striding towards Louis and pulling him into a crushing hug, the elicited gasp getting muffled against the material of his shirt. 

“Okay, we’re going inside,” Liam says hastily, and the sound of the sliding door rings through the air as he and Zayn and Gigi leave and give them some space. 

Louis just shuts his eyes and leans into the embrace, letting Harry hold him tightly for a minute and basking in the feeling. His breathing finally evens out to a normal pattern and he exhales, relief filling his insides. 

The contentment he feels is almost enough that he misses the sensation tingling on his calf. His eyes open and his mouth drops open in shock. 

“Harry,” he breathes, needing someone else to confirm that he’s not dreaming. 

“Yeah?” Harry murmurs, words being spoken against his ear and making him shiver. 

Squeezing his eyes shut again, he swallows. “Can - can you look down at my leg please?”

The fact that Harry doesn’t even press or question it makes him feel warm. He just pulls back a bit and looks down. Then he freezes. “Louis,” he says, sounding wonderstruck. 

“What color is it?” he asks quietly, face scrunching up. 

“Look and see for yourself,” Harry says gently. 

Louis grimaces, insides contracting. “What if it disappears?” 

“It won’t,” Harry says, sounding amused. “Open your eyes.” 

With a deep breath, his eyes flicker open and he looks down at the new glowing _blue_ witchmark curling down his leg. 

“You’re a witch,” Harry says, pride in his voice. 

“I’m a witch,” Louis whispers, in awe. But it’s not the witchmark that makes him finally believe it. He’s always been a witch. 

He just had to open his eyes. 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

Venus is waiting at the steps to Louis’ flat building when he returns from Tennifield on the 25th, tail curled around her figure as she lazily licks her paw. 

Her ears twitch when Louis approaches, big amber eyes flicking up and settling on his figure. He stops short. For a second they just regard each other. 

Then, she breaks the tension with a soft, _proud_ purr and Louis’ resolve breaks. 

He scoops her up and squeezes her tightly. “Venus, goddess of beauty and grace, never leave me again,” he whispers into the top of her head. She just meows, curling her tail around his arm like a hug. It's not certain, but he believes it's a promise.

Five days later and he’s still being overly clingy to his returned familiar, petting her and cuddling her multiple times through the day, not letting her out of his sight. Frankly, it’s pretty much _all_ he’s been doing. 

After Louis met up with Niall and ensured him that he could move back in and after he was awarded a medal of honorable investigation from the Council (Louis doesn’t think he’ll ever get over the satisfaction of their shocked faces when it was revealed that he was the one to banish the demon), he was pretty much let off the hook.

Liam insisted that he take a break until after Halloween to take on another case too, saying he needs time to recover and re-energize. Louis doesn’t think the man meant lazing around every day and watching ridiculous amounts of TV, but what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. 

He doesn’t isolate himself completely of course - there’s still daily calls from Zayn or Gigi or Zayn _and_ Gigi and texts from his sisters and other friends. He goes to Serafina’s to show off his new witchmark to the elderly witch who’s known him since he first moved to London. She practically squeals in excitement and Louis’ grin stretches across his entire face.

Despite all the happy moments, Louis also spends those five days feeling utterly and hopelessly lost. 

The case has been solved, Venus is back, and he finally has his witchmark. The story is over, so why does Louis feel like something has been left unfinished?

Something having to do with a someone that Louis finds himself thinking about much more than he intended to - drifting thoughts at the kitchen table, pangs of nostalgia when _Fleetwood Mac_ comes on while playing music, dozens of memories flitting across his brain as he lays in bed late at night (though he must say he prefers those to the nightmares that have lingered), and even more when he wakes up with the sheets flung across the room.

Yes, _that_ is still happening. He guesses it was wishful thinking to assume that getting his witchmark would make every single issue with his magic disappear when some of these inconsistencies have been existing for over a decade. But he’s never giving up again. His eyes are wide open and his flicker is burning steadily - an eternal flame. 

But still all he can think about is _Harry._

He remembers how he had been positive that something he was going to happen or change after they had dinner and the others were talking about going home - that Louis was going to _make_ something happen or change, but instead Harry announced that he’d be driving home that night because he’s been gone too long anyway.

Then he said goodbye to Louis and left. 

Maybe Louis was wrong - maybe it was all just for the better. Maybe this is the universe’s way of reassuring him that he made the right decision. But he can’t stop _thinking._

It’s what he’s doing right now, actually. He’s curled up on the couch with Venus lounging on his stomach and a book that he’s almost finished in his hands. The thing is, he’s been staring at the last page of the story for about ten minutes now. 

The main character and his love interest have finally gotten together - they have found their trademark novel happy ending and everything is complete. It shouldn’t be a big deal when Louis has read countless books and never once has something affected him like this. 

But all he can keep thinking about is how he’s wanted that happy ending his entire life - has craved it, even. Yet the closest he’s ever gotten had him stuck on the last page. He thinks about Harry and thinks about how he’s still in love with Louis - after all this time and despite everything that’s happened. 

He thinks about the yearning he has buried inside him as well. A longing he’s been trying to conceal and get rid of for a while now. He thinks and he thinks and he thinks, until all he can feel is confusion. 

Huffing, he shuts the book and decides he needs some answers. He grabs his phone and dials a number. His friend picks up immediately.

“Hey, Demonslayer,” Lilah greets, a smile evident in her voice. 

The way his lips curve up at the ends for the first time all day is completely natural. “Hey, Lilah,” he says. “How’re you?”

 _“I_ am perfectly fine,” Lilah assures him. “But what about _you?”_

“If you mean physically - I’m healthy and safe,” he promises, before biting his lip. “I was actually calling for advice.”

“Advice?” Lilah repeats, surprised. “Well, let’s hear it then.” 

He clears his throat, considering the options for explaining. In the end, he goes for just spitting it out. “Okay so you know how me and Harry dated? Well apparently the asshole is still in love with me and he dropped the bomb on me last week after we spent multiple weeks arguing and barely getting along. The thing is - we were really good together and even though it ended bad, it was mostly _perfect._ Like fairy-tale shit, I swear to God. But I basically rejected him and since he’s Harry he didn’t hold it against me and continued to be his amazing caring sweet self but now he’s gone and I don’t know when I’ll talk to him again and I’m beginning to realize how much I hate that? And maybe I’m beginning to second guess my decision— I don’t know, for fuck’s sake. I keep telling myself that trying again is just going to lead to more heartbreak and misery and especially knowing how long it took to heal from the first one, I don’t know if I can go through that again. But.” There’s an extended pause where Louis forces himself to take a breath, anticipation rising. “Could it be worth it?”

“Louis,” Lilah says slowly after a minute, “why are you asking me - an aromantic asexual who has never been in a relationship - for input on a relationship?”

“Because you’re the only one of my friends who is sane,” Louis says, tipping his head back against the couch cushions with a pout. “Liam will tell me to ask someone else. Zayn will give me some vague bullshit about manifestation and Gigi is just going to tell me to go after Harry no matter what.” 

“Maybe Gigi is right,” Lilah says. 

“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Louis mumbles, before closing his eyes. “You think so?” 

“You want him. He clearly wants you. So why the fuck not?” she asks. 

As always, he hesitates. 

“Did he make you happy when you were together?” Lilah asks after a moment. “And do you think he’d make you feel happy now?” 

Louis grimaces, knowing there’s only one answer. “Of course he would… But - he makes me so _angry_ at the same time. How is that healthy?” 

“I think that anger is a sign of unresolved issues between you two and the only way to get rid of that is by talking and _communicating,”_ Lilah says slowly. “You’ve already made mistakes - both of you have. But now that you’ve made them, you know better. And you won’t make them again.” 

“Is it really that simple?” he asks dryly. 

“Look, I’m not saying there’s no chance of one of you or both of you getting your hearts broken again,” Lilah says patiently. “But if it’s really like you said - if it’s really ‘like fairy-tale shit’ then isn’t the risk worth it? Wouldn’t you rather try than regret not?”

He exhales. letting the words sink into him. Isn’t it worth it? Isn’t _Harry_ worth it?

“I think - I think you may be onto something, Delilah Nelson,” he says softly.

She snorts. “But seriously, glad to be of help. Don’t forget to send me an update between rounds.”

“Rounds? Wait, never mind, don’t clarify.” He shakes his head and wills the flush away. “One last thing.”

“Shoot.”

Louis licks his lips. “Do you have Harry’s address?”

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

As much as he wanted to take the address Lilah told him and drive or portal to it then and there, he also knew he needed to be in the right mindset. He also had to think it through. 

So now it’s the next day. Louis spent the longest period yet laying in bed and remembering last night and the more he remembers - or _allows_ himself to remember, the more convinced he feels. He’s making the right decision. He isn’t giving up. Never again. 

Because he remembers so many things - remembers first dates, fond looks, arms around his waist and lips pressed to the nape of his neck, remembers lazy mornings curled together in bed, fingers intertwined, and so much _warmth._ Something he’s been missing these past two years. Something he’s been trying to tell himself that he doesn’t miss. 

He’s acknowledging it now. He misses it. He wants it back, so much it aches. 

After lunch, a shower, and some Liam-inspired pacing across his room, he puts on a soft persimmon colored sweater and jeans, tugging a coat over for good measure. He’s not going on a date or anything but he still feels the need to look good for this. When he’s finished messing with his fringe, he appraises himself in the mirror. 

In the background, Venus meows approvingly and flicks her tail. He smiles at her reflection before turning to her. “Do I got this?” he asks. 

She dips her head in a nod, encouragement in her eyes. He takes a deep breath. He’s got this. 

It’s not like he doesn’t know whether Harry reciprocates his feelings or that there’s any fear of rejection, but it can’t be denied that this is about to change everything. And is he ready for that? 

He guesses he’ll just have to go and see. 

Five minutes later, he’s standing outside of Harry’s flat building. He portalled here by himself - finally feeling confident enough to practice more advanced magic, including non-affinity magic. 

Except, now he’s _here_ and Harry is _upstairs_ and the doubt is coming back.

What if this isn’t a good idea? What if they really did lose their chance to work out and trying again will just be pointless? What if -

“Uh, Louis?” says a voice from right behind him. 

He jumps, whirling around to see Harry looking down at him curiously. _Of course,_ he thinks bitterly. He’s dressed in a sweatshirt and basketball shorts, a thin sheen of sweat over his face to show he had probably been on a run. It’s only been a week and somehow Louis has forgotten how handsome he is - how easily the angles of his face, the quirk of his lips, and the tattoos standing out on his exposed arms make his throat feel dry. “Don’t sneak up on people like that, asshole,” he blurts defensively, placing a hand on his chest and feeling his heart pound against his palm. 

“Sorry,” Harry says, lips twitching. “What’re you doing here?” 

_I’m here to see you,_ Louis thinks. “Oh… just… passing by,” he says lamely. 

“Really?” Harry says, looking amused. 

“What else would I be doing here?” Louis says with a fake smile, wishing Harry could just call him out on his bullshit or let him escape so he doesn’t have to endure this awkwardness. 

Except all he does is raise his hands in mock-surrender. “By all means, don’t let me keep you.” They stare at each other and Harry’s smirk grows the longer Louis stands there without leaving. 

“Fine, okay, I came to see you,” Louis relents, scowling.

“For what?” Harry asks. It’s still just as smooth and nonchalant, but Louis can see the way his adam’s apple bobs, like he’s just had a rush of hope but doesn’t want to be disappointed. 

He clears his throat. “Can we go up?”

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

There was part of Louis that had been afraid to step foot into Harry’s new flat and not recognize anything, but as Harry leaves him to take a quick shower and he looks around, he realizes that while the layout is different, everything else is the same. The plants set around the room, the paintings and photos adorning the walls, and the same pillows on the same couch across from the same coffee table. It’s all familiar. 

It feels _right._

He clasps his hands over his knees and waits patiently, doubt and resolve and a million other conflicting emotions running through his head. 

Thankfully, Harry doesn’t take long. He appears with hair still dripping, in the midst of tugging on a shirt. It’s automatic the way Louis’ eyes follow the movement of his abdomen flexing right before the fabric comes down over it. He clears his throat as Harry takes a seat on the other side of the couch, a mere meter away. 

“What did you want to talk about?” he asks, expression unreadable as his eyes track Louis fidgeting with his sleeves. 

“Us,” Louis says quietly. 

“Oh,” Harry breathes, looking pleased before he schools his face again. “And what exactly about us?” 

“Um, just that you were right,” Louis says, ducking his head. “I don’t… I don’t think our story is over either.” 

Harry looks like he’s barely breathing. “What does that mean?” he asks. 

Louis bites his lip. “It means I want to try,” he blurts. “But… I’m scared.” It’s the third time he’s said it to Harry (fourth if the time he overheard Louis saying it to Venus counts) but somehow this is the hardest. 

“Of what?” Harry asks. It’s gentle. Patient. 

“Of getting my heart broken,” Louis says, squeezing his hands together. “Of breaking _your_ heart. Again.”

Harry doesn’t answer, regarding him carefully. 

Feeling overwhelmed under the eye contact, Louis stands up and walks over to the wall where Harry has a series of photos of him with friends and family. “What happens if it doesn’t work?” he asks frustratedly, looking away. “What if we don’t get along anymore? What if we can’t stop fighting or we’ve forgotten how to be with each other?” 

A hand presses into the small of his back and he turns around immediately, looking up at Harry helplessly. 

“It’ll work,” he says firmly. 

“How do you know?” Louis asks, frowning. 

Harry smiles at him, slow and sure. “Because it’s us.” 

“That’s hardly a reassurance,” Louis snorts. “Look at us now.” 

“Yeah, Lou. Look at us now. _Here._ In this moment,” Harry says. “We lost each other but we found each other again. That, if anything is proof this can work.” His grin turns into a smirk. “Would you just stay with me?

Words processing immediately, Louis can’t help but smile and roll his eyes. He continues, “Stay with you? What for? Look at us. We're already fighting.”

Reaching out to cup Louis’ face in big hands, Harry’s next words come out in a murmur, nothing like Ryan Gosling, but maybe even better. “Well, that's what we do then. We fight. You tell me when I'm being an arrogant son of a bitch and I tell you when you're being a pain in the ass… It's not gonna be easy, it's gonna be really hard. And we're gonna have to work at this everyday, but I wanna do that because I want you. I want all of you, forever. You and me. Everyday.” 

“God, why are you like this?” Louis asks, but he’s still smiling. 

“What do you say?” Harry says, thumb rubbing over the arch of his cheekbone. 

“Remember what you said that morning when the demon broke our board?” Louis asks, voice soft but unwavering. 

Harry furrows his brows. “No? What’d I say?” 

“You said you’d be here as long as I needed you,” Louis whispers. He reaches up and holds onto Harry’s forearms, tilting his head up to look him in the eyes properly. 

“Still true,” Harry says, fingers achingly gentle as they brush under his eyes and press into his temples. 

“I think…” Louis continues, swallowing, “that I’ll always need you, Harry Styles.”

“Then I’ll be here,” Harry says simply. Just like that.

“Promise?” Louis says. “Even when I’m a pain in the arse. Or when the sheets never stay on the bed? When Venus sheds cat hair all over your new flat? When I’m _needy?_ ”

“Promise,” Harry breathes, ducking down so their noses bump and his lips are brushing Louis’ just barely. “Louis Tomlinson,” he whispers. 

Louis exhales, dizzy at the proximity. “What?” he breathes, so soft it almost gets lost in the space between their mouths.

“Witch,” Harry says. “Ghost hunter. Brilliant investigator. Demon banisher. Beautiful soul. Occasionally annoying thorn in the side -” He chokes out a laugh when Louis swats him in the chest, breath fanning out over Louis’ burning cheeks. “The most stunning person I’ve seen in my life,” he murmurs, voice even more soft than Louis thought possible. “Will you stay?”

His heart swells with emotion, beating so big he fears it will burst right out from his chest. But Harry is asking him if he’ll stay and Louis is done waiting. 

All he does is dip his chin down in a half-nod, breathing out a soft, _“Yes,”_ before Harry is fitting their lips together, fingers pressing into Louis’ hair as he guides him back against the wall. 

Maybe it’s just that Louis hasn’t been kissed in much too long (or kissed this _well)_ that he feels dizzy this fast but either way, he’s grateful for the support of the wall when Harry curls a hand around the back of his neck and tilts his head up for easier access, sliding his tongue between Louis’ parted lips. 

He revels in each touch, winding his arms around Harry’s neck and pulling him closer, closer, closer. There’s a fire burning in his stomach, spreading across his body and leaving him flushed and gasping. His heart thunders in his ears, drowning everything out except for the man in front of him. 

Harry holds him so tenderly, a thumb pressing into the hollow of his throat like he’s trying to feel Louis’ pulse - to remind himself that Louis is here and in his arms. His other hand smooths down his side before slipping under his sweater, palm warm and encompassing his entire stomach when he flattens it over his belly button. Louis can feel it there with every breath, can feel Harry all the way down to where his toes are curling in his shoes as he strains up on them to reach better. 

Louis would never say it lightly, but it feels like _magic._ It’s electric the way they fit together. Something extraordinary as Louis tangles his hands into Harry’s hair and lets him breathe fire into his lungs. Something unexplainable and incomprehensible. And Louis can’t believe he lived without it for so long. Not because he can’t live without, because he can, but because he never wants to. 

Pulling away to catch his breath, he immediately shudders as Harry mouths down the column of his throat, skin burning in his wake. “You have a nice flat,” he breathes, digging his fingers into Harry’s shoulders as he starts working on a bruise at the base of his neck. 

“Thank you?” Harry says, confused. 

“Haven’t seen the bedroom, yet though,” he adds and Harry chuckles. 

“Let’s change that,” he murmurs, and then he slides an arm around Louis’ waist and scoops him up bridal-style, kissing his forehead when he gasps. 

They end up pausing three times in the hallway to make out some more, relearning the insides of each other’s mouths and getting distracted by necks and noses and temples. Louis isn’t subtle in the way he magically slams the door shut and pulls the duvet down on the bed. 

Harry sets him down gently, sealing their mouths together again as he settles above him. He pulls back a second later, ignoring Louis’ pout of protest. “Are you sure you want this?” he asks seriously. “We don’t have to do this. We can take things slow -”

Louis glances pointedly at the half-filled glass of water on the nightstand and Harry huffs at him, grinning. 

“I’m serious,” he says, cradling the side of Louis’ face tenderly. “We can wait. I’ll take you out this week and wine and dine you good and proper before making you feel good.”

“Or,” Louis says, dragging out the syllable. “You can fuck me good and proper now and then do it again later this week after wining and dining me?”

Harry hums, leaning down to rest his forehead against Louis’. “Tempting,” he murmurs, breath fanning out across Louis’ flushed cheeks. “Are you positive?” 

“Don’t want to wait,” Louis pleads. Harry still looks hesitant and Louis finds himself resenting the man’s natural inclination to be a gentleman. “Please, _sir.”_

The way Harry goes rigid and Louis can distinctly pinpoint the exact moment his resolve shatters is honestly quite a sight. He lets out a pained grunt and then crashes his lips back into Louis’, pushing him into the mattress. 

“Bloody tease,” he mumbles into Louis’ mouth, before biting down roughly on his bottom lip and eliciting a moan. His eyes are dark and blown when he pulls back to gaze into Louis’ eyes. “No one’s called me that in _years.”_

“Sorry, sir, I’ll fix that immediately,” Louis says breathlessly. His heart is pounding so loud he can feel it in his ears, stomach heaving with every breath. 

Harry tips his head back, exhaling deeply like he’s trying to control himself. Then he’s pulling at Louis’ sweater, yanking it up and off his body. Louis tugs his off in return, feeling his throat go dry as his eyes roam over broad shoulders and inches of tattooed skin. They just breathe for a moment, taking each other in. 

He shivers when Harry reaches out and flattens his hand over his stomach again, palm so warm against his cool skin. “You’re beautiful,” he says, voice hoarse. 

Louis blushes, shy at the reverence in Harry’s heavy gaze. He squirms, restless. “Get in me.” 

“Let me take my time, angel,” Harry whispers, leaning down to speak the words against the shell of his ear and making Louis shiver again. “I’ve been waiting. I’ve been waiting for a long long time.” 

“Then don’t wait any longer,” Louis says desperately. He winds his arms around Harry’s neck and pulls him closer. “Make love to me,” he murmurs. “Remind me why I’m staying.” 

“Whatever you say, baby,” Harry agrees, nose bumping into his as he slots their lips together again. His hands settle at the dip of Louis’ waist, hot and steady. Louis spreads his legs for him to settle in between and Harry’s cock, big and hard through the fabric, presses into his hip. 

Everything except the man on top of him fades to a hazy buzz, heartbeat deafening in his ears and vision going blurry with lust. He lets Harry lick into his mouth lazily, reaching down to cup him through his shorts. 

He groans into Louis’ mouth, hips automatically bucking into it. “Even more impatient than me,” he mutters, before undoing the buttons of Louis’ jeans and yanking them along with his underwear off. 

Louis returns the favor, fingers clumsy as he tugs at Harry’s shorts. Harry ends up having to help him, his cock instantly slapping up against his stomach, angry red and leaking at the tip. 

“This is what I really missed,” Louis mumbles, reaching out and gripping Harry’s length in his hand. “Your big dick.” 

Harry bites his shoulder in reproach. “Don’t touch,” he instructs. Louis lets go reluctantly, but his annoyance is short-lived when Harry starts groping at his arse unashamedly. 

“In, in, in,” Louis pleads, close to whining. He whimpers when Harry bites down again, digging his fingers into his broad shoulders. 

When Harry moves back, he tightens his grip, mewling in objection. 

“Hold on, baby,” he murmurs softly, but Louis just holds on tighter. “Just need to get lube.”

“Where is it?” Louis slurs. 

“In the night -” His words die out when Louis instantly conjures the bottle and pushes it into his hand. He purses his lips. “Forgot how convenient that is.” 

“Hurry up,” Louis demands. 

Harry responds by shoving two fingers into his mouth and all he can do is moan, sucking immediately. 

His eyes water with tears and he blinks away the wetness, straining to see as Harry slicks up the fingers on his other hand and leans down to suck at his nipple. 

Louis arches up with a gasp, nearling biting down on Harry’s fingers as he squirms, fully overwhelmed from the assault of multiple sensations. Harry takes the opportunity to push his first digit past his entrance, the small burn feeling like heaven. 

The look of concentration on his face right now resembles his seance-face but is maybe even more focused in a way - because he’s entirely focused on Louis. His eyes are constantly roaming over his face and body, cataloguing every twitch and gasp and shudder to make sure he’s in complete pleasure and no discomfort. 

It grows even more intense as one finger turns to two and three before he’s easing them out and reaching for the lube again. “Can you -”

“Yes,” Louis says, muttering the incantation for a protection spell. A blue shine flickers over Harry’s cock before fading, the spell solidifying. “Hurry, hurry, please, sir.” 

“Be good,” Harry murmurs, slicking himself up before settling back over Louis on his forearms. The head of his cock nudges Louis’ rim and Louis shudders at the feeling. “Okay?” Harry checks, kissing the top of his head. 

Unable to speak coherently, he resorts to nodding. 

“Words,” Harry prompts, dragging his lips down the side of his neck and pausing to mouth at his pulse. “Use your words, angel.” 

“Yes, sir - _oh,”_ Louis says, gasping when Harry sucks at the sensitive spot. _“Harry.”_

Harry eases in slowly, pressing his lips to Louis’ and swallowing every gasp and whimper. He pauses when he bottoms out to let Louis adjust. 

Louis exhales shakily, untensing bit by bit. Harry grasps his hands and squeezes them tight, holding him steady like he always does. “You can go,” Louis urges, clenching down experimentally. “Please, sir.”

Both of them hiss at the tight drag as Harry pulls out and pushes back in. 

“So good, baby,” Harry whispers, squeezing his hands again as he finds a steady rhythm, hips gliding forward with force. He presses kisses over Louis’ red face. “I’m so lucky to have you like this.”

“Harry,” Louis breathes, dazed. He’s forgotten what it felt like - being in so much pleasure that the only thing he can remember is the name of the person making him feel this good. Has forgotten the intimacy and how incredible it feels to be wrapped up in someone like this. God, he’s missed it so much - missed _Harry_ so much. 

He whimpers when Harry brings his hands above his head, holding him down with their fingers still intertwined as he speeds up. The bed creaks below them, headboard bumping into the wall. 

“You’re everything to me, did you know?” Harry grunts, fingers flexing against Louis’ quivering ones. “I’m going to make you so happy, I promise.”

Only Harry can spout such sappy bullshit while ramming his dick into Louis' body and somehow manage to push him closer to the edge in the meantime, Jesus Christ.

A tremor runs through Louis’ body as he feels that familiar heat bloom in his stomach, spreading through his lungs and heart all the way down to where his toes curl. Tears brim in his eyes from sheer overwhelm. “Harry, m’close, please -”

Harry leans down and mouths over his nipples again, the ministrations enough to make Louis see stars. With a small sound fighting up his throat, he spills out between them, going entirely slack. 

“Perfect, so perfect,” Harry murmurs into his neck, thrusts still measured and even as he chases his own release. 

Louis tries his best to kiss back when Harry connects their lips again, mouths slick and sliding against each other. Harry bites down on his bottom lip before groaning, shoulders caving in as he empties his release inside him. 

Their lips stay slotted together as Harry slumps on his side, pulling Louis into him and tangling their legs together. “I’m so in love with you,” Harry murmurs into his mouth. 

“It’s mutual,” Louis mumbles back, still feeling a bit dizzy. There’s already an ache between his legs that he knows is going to last a while - though he supposes that had been Harry’s intention from the beginning. To give Louis something to remember - something he never wants to forget. 

After conjuring a rag and letting Harry wipe them down, they curl around each other and just breathe. Hazy golden rays of mid-afternoon are filtering in through the window, light filling the room. Louis’ heart is filling too, swelling with warmth and happiness and pure contentment. 

Harry cradles his face and he feels nothing but the heat of his palms, no magic sparking up and no panic in his body. His eyes flutter shut and his lips part as Harry leans in. 

As they lay there snogging, Louis decides they really ought to send Mrs. Sawyers a fruit basket. 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

It’s cold outside. Not too cold, but the cool breeze slips through the fabric of Louis’ shirt (or rather, Harry’s shirt) and makes him shiver all the same. He supposes it’s not too annoying when an arm wraps around his waist and pulls him closer to a warm body, heat bleeding through from his side to Louis’. 

They’re sitting out on Harry’s balcony, legs crossed on the rug as he looks out on the street. There aren't many people out but the scene is undeniably alive. Cars driving by, traffic lights flickering in red, green, and amber. In the distance is all of London, sky fading burnished golden into dusky blue of late evening. 

He slumps further into Harry’s side, resting his head on his shoulder. “It’s a nice view.” 

“Yeah,” Harry agrees but when Louis glances at him, the bastard is staring down at him with a fond look. 

“Idiot,” he huffs, blushing. 

“Just honest,” Harry says. His other hand reaches down and curls around his exposed leg. His thumb traces over the intricate swirls of his witchmark, gaze curious. “Can’t believe you got it.” 

“Me either,” Louis says quietly. “But it just… happened. I didn’t think I’d ever be good at magic, but it feels _right_ now. Simple.” 

“You’ve always been good at magic - just needed to get past your own self-barrier,” Harry says easily. His lips twitch as he ducks down to whisper into Louis’ ear. “You put a spell on me and now I’m hooked for life.”

Louis gives him an unimpressed look. 

“Kidding,” Harry says, looking way too smug for his own good. He brushes a strand of hair off of Louis’ forehead and then cups his face. In a completely serious voice, he looks him in the eyes and says, “You’re a witch, Louis.”

The giggle that falls from Louis’ lips is entirely accidental and he slaps a hand over his mouth in embarrassment. “Stop it,” he says, scrunching up his face. 

“I’m proud of you,” Harry says softly, before booping his nose. Louis tries to bite his finger but he’s grinning. “No more holes in walls,” he adds after a second. 

“Much to the relief of the Council, I bet,” Louis says, rolling his eyes. “Those smug bastards.” He glances at Harry. “No offense.” 

“To be honest, I’m not the biggest fan of them either,” Harry admits. “You were right about what you said. They always prioritize the case and their own agenda over the actual spirits and I don’t like that.” 

“Maybe you should leave the Department and join our team,” Louis jokes. It had just come out but when he glances at Harry, he sees actual consideration on his face. 

“Maybe I should,” he says slowly, eyes flickering up to Louis’. “You’d be okay with that?” 

Louis smiles at him genuinely, grabbing his hand and intertwining their fingers. “I’d _love_ that.” 

The smile Harry gives him is soft and filled with so much affection that Louis feels shy, turning back ahead to stare out at the skyline, comforted by the feeling of Harry’s hand encompassing his, with his side pressed to his. 

He ends up closing his eyes for a bit when Harry gets up to grab a jacket, letting the breeze wash over him as he remembers what brought him here and how fast this month has passed. 

Somehow, the universe brought them back together, just like it dropped them into each other’s lives two and a half years ago. Whatever it was and whatever happened for them to be this lucky, Louis is grateful for it. 

Harry appears at the doorway right then, holding a content Venus in his arms. “Your cat was at the door… How did she get here?” 

Louis shrugs. “To be honest, I’ve learned not to question it.” 

Venus purrs, nuzzling her head into Harry’s arm. He grins down at her before glancing at Louis smugly. “I think I won her over.” 

“You won her over because you won _me_ over,” Louis tells him. “She’s just loyal.” He holds out his arms expectantly. 

The familiar immediately jumps from Harry’s arms and rushes into Louis’, greeting him by head-butting his stomach and purring softly. He isn't sure but it sounds like the beloved feline is happy for him.

“Do you want to sit out here some more or go inside for candy?” Harry asks, sitting down anyway and wrapping an arm around Louis’ waist. “I got some yesterday just for fun.” 

“Candy?” Louis repeats, furrowing his brows. It hits him a second later. “Oh my god, Harry, it’s Halloween!” he exclaims, shooting to his feet in shock and causing Venus to meow reproachfully at being lifted so jerkily.

Harry makes a sound of protest at the distance, immediately tugging both Louis and Venus back down and into his lap this time. “Didn’t you know that?” he asks into Louis’ ear, smiling when he shivers. 

“Forgot,” Louis mumbles, eyes closing as Harry presses a lingering kiss to the sensitive spot below his ear lobe. “Too distracted.” 

Smug, Harry drags his lips up the column of Louis’ throat teasingly before kissing Louis slowly and thoroughly. He speaks into Louis’ mouth this time, words meant just for them. “Happy Halloween, little witch.” 

“Happy Halloween,” Louis mumbles back, letting Harry lick into his mouth a little while longer before breaking the kiss and shifting to a more comfortable position. He leans back into Harry’s chest, rolling his eyes when Harry bites at the juncture between his shoulder and neck, clearly a man on a mission. 

But all he feels is complete and utter contentment. With Venus purring happily in his arms, his witchmark glowing bright blue on his calf, and Harry unashamedly mouthing at his pulse, Louis tips his head back and smiles at the moon. 

‧⁺˚*·༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧

**Author's Note:**

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